“Why did she have to faint now? So frustrating!”
“She’s barely contributed anything, yet she’s always dragging us down. Maybe we should report this to the higher-ups and have her kicked out of the team?”
Song Yue drifted back to consciousness, her vision blurring as she saw a petite young woman standing over her. The girl was holding a small handheld fan, diligently blowing cool air onto her.
Seeing Song Yue stir, the girl let out a sigh of relief. “She’s awake!”
The complaining voices abruptly ceased.
Song Yue pushed herself up from the ground and rubbed her temples, recalling the character information the system had provided.
The original owner of this body shared her name and was an assistant researcher at the Agricultural Research Institute. She had only been on the job for a year, making her one of the most junior members of the staff.
Today, her assignment was to accompany the experimental group on a field sampling trip. But the heat had been oppressive, and the team’s heatstroke precautions had been inadequate.
Combined with the text message the original owner had seen just before losing consciousness, she’d simply been overwhelmed and passed out.
Recalling the message, Song Yue’s lip curled.
I’ve arrived in the Aisai Desert. Do not disturb for one month.
It ended with a sarcastic, waving-hand emoji.
It was clear the original owner’s relationship with her younger sister was strained—so much so that the girl refused to even call her “sister.”
Song Yue silently put her phone away. As the experimental group’s leader, Zhou Shuhan, approached, she offered a low-voiced apology. “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused everyone.”
Zhou Shuhan shot her an impatient glance. “What good is an apology? Do you have any idea how much of a headache you’ve been for me this past year? Get up. Don’t get in our way.”
He might as well have written I can’t stand you on his face.
A bespectacled man in the group tsked. “If you’re too sick to handle this, why bother coming out? Do you know how much time you’ve wasted for us? If we fall any further behind, can you even afford to compensate us?”
Since the original owner of the body had been at fault, Song Yue didn’t argue. She had just entered this new reality and still needed to get her bearings. For now, her best bet was to keep a low profile.
“I truly apologize for the inconvenience,” she said, her tone sincere.
Zhou Shuhan sneered coldly and turned his back on her, leading the team forward without another word.
Song Yue didn’t let it get to her. She turned to the young woman who had been fanning her. “Thank you for the fan, Junior Sister. You’ve been a real help.”
She then produced several plant samples she had collected earlier and pressed them into the other girl’s hands. “These are hard to find. You should have them.”
The girl froze, clearly stunned that Song Yue would hand over the valuable samples so freely.
Song Yue ignored the protest and insisted she take them.
The young woman stared at the samples, her eyes glazing over. When she realized Song Yue wasn’t joking, she stopped refusing and timidly accepted the offer.
***
Every member of the expedition carried the burden of a strict quota.
They had to collect a specific number of distinct plant specimens before returning. If they failed, their group would struggle to secure research grants from the administration.
Without funding, research stalled. If they produced no results, their budget would be slashed again at year-end, creating a vicious cycle.
Zhou Shuhan’s team had failed to deliver results since last year. After one funding cut already, they faced a high probability of being disbanded and reassigned if they failed again this year.
This was the reality for researchers in the Star Nation.
Their professional lives were entirely dependent on their output. To achieve status and wealth, they had to produce results—or find themselves at the very bottom of the professional ladder.
The group had chosen agricultural science with dreams of overnight fame and fortune. Every field trip and lab experiment was a high-stakes gamble on their careers. Anyone who dragged the team down was swiftly shunned, if not outright discarded.
No one had expected Song Yue—the group’s perennial underachiever—to offer her samples when she couldn’t even meet her own quota.
“She’s lost her damn mind,” a young woman muttered, glancing back at her with a sneer.
Song Yue pretended not to hear the comment and insisted on giving the samples.
The young woman stared at the specimens until her eyes glazed over. Once she realized Song Yue wasn’t joking, she stopped refusing and timidly accepted the offer.
“Thank you, Senior Sister Song,” She Wen murmured, her face flushing.
Song Yue looked at the girl and finally retrieved her name from the original owner’s memories. She Wen was a new hire at the Agricultural Research Institute who had just started her internship a month ago.
Song Yue offered a faint smile. “No need to thank me. It’s only right to help new staff.”
She Wen’s eyes widened. “Hardly anyone thinks like that.”
Despite being new, they were teammates and rivals from the day they joined the Agricultural Institute. Unless something critical happened—like She Wen fainting earlier—everyone maintained a polite but cold social distance.
Song Yue paused, struck by She Wen’s reaction. She was only now realizing that the Star Nation was completely different from her original country or the world she had lived in before.
The technology here was slightly more advanced than in her home nation. However, critical sectors like energy, technology, medicine, and education were controlled by conglomerates. The government was merely a proxy agency, possessing no real authority.
Life here seemed affluent and carefree, but agricultural resources were actually scarce.
Forced to rely on technology-driven farming, the entire nation had poured its expertise into the field, creating a proliferation of Agricultural Institutes and a vast workforce of dedicated researchers.
Developing a new, low-consumption, high-yield crop could earn a researcher a massive reward from the Star Nation Financial Group—a fortune that guaranteed a life of luxury and leisure.
Because of this, competition began the moment they entered the profession. Even within the same team, members hoarded their core research and only shared non-essential data to brainstorm.
Credit for any breakthrough rested solely on individual effort.
B-rank teams like theirs were likely to be disbanded. While such a split would lower a researcher’s individual appraisal value, anyone who seized a later opportunity to produce results could still make a comeback.
Sharing core technology, however, was akin to handing over one’s own path to wealth.
Consequently, few ever offered a helping hand. Most refused to share even a minor collection sample.
Song Yue found the system eerily similar to the entertainment industry in her home country—specifically the idol groups.
They’d gather a group of trainees, inject capital, form a team, and throw everything at it: singing, dancing, climbing the charts, managing social media, and chasing trends in a desperate bid for overnight stardom. If they hit it big right away, the team, the individuals, and the investors all reaped the rewards. But if the first attempt flopped, they’d swap out members to try a new angle. If that still failed, they’d just disband and start over with a new group.
The members were simultaneously teammates and rivals, each competing for the same slice of fame.
After mentally sorting through the original owner’s memories, Song Yue and She Wen set out to collect plant samples.
Because Song Yue had freely given a sample, She Wen’s opinion of her had improved considerably. She chatted nonstop as they walked, providing the perfect opportunity for Song Yue to ask, “Is the Aisai Desert far from here?”
She Wen paused, surprised. “The Aisai Desert? Not really. There’s only Sita Nation between us.”
Song Yue simply murmured in acknowledgment, already running calculations in her head.
“Are you planning a trip, Senior Sister Song?” She Wen asked earnestly. “If so, I wouldn’t recommend leaving anytime soon.”
“Why not?” Song Yue asked.
“Haven’t you seen the news?” She Wen asked. “Sita Nation and Aisai Nation are suffering from a rare heatwave. It’s scorching over there—some say temperatures have topped fifty degrees Celsius these last couple of days. We Star Nation people aren’t built for that kind of heat. Anyone who goes there is bound to suffer heatstroke.”
And the original owner’s sister is running off to the desert? Song Yue’s head throbbed.
I need to get a plane ticket and get her out of there immediately.
Two hours later, everyone had met their KPIs. Freed from the day’s burden, the group chatted as they walked back.
“This heat is unbelievable. When will it break?”
“Star Nation’s summer highs are usually only a little over thirty degrees. This year is definitely abnormal.”
“I don’t know when it will cool down. If we have to keep coming out in this weather, we’re all going to get heatstroke.”
“Yeah, I’ve already heard about several cases near my house. It’s brutal.”
Just as the words left someone’s mouth, a shout rang out.
“Senior Brother Zhou, there’s someone collapsed ahead!”
The group rushed forward, crowding around the fallen figure with a flurry of worried whispers. Song Yue joined them.
“Probably someone from the neighboring farm,” Zhou Shuhan said, his brow furrowed. “He’s suffered heatstroke. Call an ambulance, quickly.”
The sight of another heatstroke victim soured his mood. The mounting pressure from above to produce results was already weighing on him.
If they couldn’t develop a viable seed soon, it wouldn’t just be the government funding at risk. Even his private backers would pull out.
His villa, his cars, his outdoor pool… everything would be gone.
The thought made his head throb. Why did I have to take over such a novice team?
There were six of them in total—himself and five others.
Two men and three women. The two men had such abysmal graduation records that he’d given up on them the moment they were assigned to him.
The women were a mixed bag. Meng Sheng, for instance, had graduated in the top ten percent of the First Agricultural College and had even published a paper during her studies. Though the new seed variety she’d developed had little practical value, the fact that she’d produced a result at all showed some competence.
Then there was She Wen. A fresh graduate with no research to her name and a mediocre academic record, but she was compliant and never complained. She was a useful assistant, always ready to help.
And then there was Song Yue.
Her resume had been impeccable—top of her class for four straight years. But in practice, she was utterly useless.
Every time they went out to collect samples, she was the slowest. Worse, she’d bring back random, irrelevant specimens that had nothing to do with the project.
Even in the lab, she’d ignored his advice and insisted on doing things her own way. A whole year had passed without a single successful result.
Zhou Shuhan winced at the thought of all the money and time he’d sunk into this team.
If Song Yue doesn’t produce something by the end of the year, I’m replacing her, he vowed. What’s the point of keeping a useless waste of space like her around?
Song Yue had already reached the unconscious old man.
“What are you doing?” Zhou Shuhan tried to grab her arm but missed.
“Saving him.”
“You’re not a doctor,” Zhou Shuhan scoffed. “How are you going to save him?”
“I know basic first aid.” Song Yue didn’t bother explaining further. She knelt, set her bag aside, and took out two bottles of mineral water. She unscrewed the caps and slowly poured the water over the man’s head.
“Everyone, move back,” she commanded calmly. “Give the patient some air. I need one person to fan him. Who can do it?”
The young man who had just called emergency services stepped forward tentatively. “…I’ll do it.”
“Fine. Take off your shirt and use it as a fan.”
“Ah… well…” The young man, with his clean-cut, studious look, hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of stripping in public.
Finally, She Wen couldn’t stand the delay any longer. She whipped off her own jacket. “I’ll do it.”
She Wen began fanning the man vigorously.
“Sucking up to the big shots, huh?” the girl who had called Song Yue a lunatic sneered, shooting She Wen a contemptuous look.
Song Yue’s eyelids shot up. “If it were your parents lying on the ground, would you still be talking like that?”
The girl’s smirk froze. She didn’t reply, instead finding an empty spot on the pavement and sitting down.
After emptying the two bottles, Song Yue asked She Wen for another. She soaked a dry towel in the water and began repeatedly wiping the unconscious man’s face, chest, arms, and thighs.
The evaporating water would draw heat from his body, lowering his temperature.
Zhou Shuhan watched her, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Funny. The top student from the Agricultural College is useless at her actual job, but she’s a pro at first aid.”
Song Yue didn’t even look at him. “I just happen to know how.”
“Hah.”
Just happen to know, he thought bitterly.
He rolled his eyes. Every time he looked at her, he saw a massive sinkhole of wasted money and time. With a click of his tongue, he followed Meng Sheng’s lead and found a cool spot to sit on the ground, waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
Song Yue paid the comments no mind. She hadn’t expected Zhou Shuhan or Meng Sheng to help anyway. An unconscious person needed fresh air, so if they’d crowded around, she would have sent them away regardless.
Just She Wen and herself were enough.
She Wen, fanning vigorously, caught her breath. As she watched Song Yue, she committed the movements to memory. “So this is how you treat heatstroke?” she asked, surprised.
She’d never paid much attention to it before.
“This isn’t common heatstroke,” Song Yue explained. “It’s heatstroke.”
“Heatstroke? What’s that?”
“An acute condition far more severe than common heatstroke. It’s usually linked to high temperatures. With the current heatwave, if you don’t take proper precautions, there’s a real chance of developing it.” Song Yue guessed the people here wouldn’t be familiar with the condition. After all, the Star Nation’s summer highs only reached thirty degrees.
At that temperature, even common heatstroke was rare, let alone this severe form.
Sure enough, She Wen blinked. “Is heatstroke really that serious?”
“It can be fatal.”
She Wen gasped. “That’s terrifying!”
“Yes. That’s why immediate treatment is crucial. The sooner the patient receives care, the higher their chances of survival.”
Song Yue reached into her pocket—actually her storage space—and pulled out a bottle of medicated oil, waving it gently under the old man’s nose.
“What’s that?” She Wen asked, her eyes wide.
“A heatstroke remedy,” Song Yue lied smoothly, meeting her gaze. “I had it shipped from overseas.”
She’d already confirmed that the written language here was different from her own world, so claiming it was from “overseas” wouldn’t raise any red flags.
The sharp, invigorating scent of the oil wafted through the air, instantly refreshing the people resting nearby.
From a distance, Zhou Shuhan glanced at the bottle. He’d been about to ask what it was, but the memory of Song Yue’s irritating behavior over the past year quickly killed his interest.
The old man on the ground finally stirred.
Song Yue quickly handed him a fresh bottle of water and gestured for him to drink.
After a few long gulps, the old man clutched his chest and caught his breath. He looked up at Song Yue. “Did I… pass out from the heat?”
Song Yue nodded.
“Thank you, young lady. If it weren’t for you, these old bones would have been left here for good.”
“It’s no trouble,” Song Yue replied. “I’m just glad you’re safe. We’ve already called emergency services. You should still go to the hospital for a full check-up, just to be sure.”
“Never mind,” the old man said, waving a hand. “I’m awake now. No need to waste time at a hospital.” He paused, his gaze turning curious as he studied Song Yue. “Young lady, you look familiar. May I ask your name?”
Song Yue blinked, then told him.
The old man’s eyes lit up with sudden excitement. “Song Yue! Are you the Song Yue from First Agricultural College?”
That’s the university from my predecessor’s memories, Song Yue thought, and nodded.
“What a surprise to run into you here!” The old man’s eyes swept over her, She Wen, and Zhou Shuhan. “Are you a researcher at the Agricultural Institute now?”
“Yes,” Song Yue replied honestly.
The old man smiled warmly. “Any interest in joining my team? I’ve heard wonderful things about your academic record.”
Song Yue froze. She racked her brain, trying to place the man, but couldn’t recall ever hearing of him. “I’m sorry, who are you?” she asked politely.
The old man slapped his thigh and laughed. “Look at me, too excited to introduce myself! Here, take my business card.”
Song Yue took it skeptically. When she read the name, her breath hitched.
Qiu Rongyao—the former leader of an S-rank team!
“You’re Elder Qiu?!”
Any student from the agricultural college who hadn’t heard of Elder Qiu might as well change majors.
He was a titan in the field, a figure so legendary that even the worst students knew his name.
The man rarely appeared in public, and the only photos of him were from his younger days. Even when he lectured at various colleges, he always wore a mask. Few people ever recognized him in person.
Thank goodness for that, Song Yue thought, inwardly relieved. Otherwise, I would have missed out on the most important person in this Instance!
Her optional quest—Successfully Cultivate a New Heat-Resistant Grain—was no simple task. If she could join Elder Qiu’s team and receive his guidance, the difficulty would surely drop.
Without a second thought, she nodded.
“I’m interested! But…” She hesitated. “I already have a team. I need to finish up here first, then—”
Elder Qiu chuckled and cut her off. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll have someone handle it. All you need to do is agree to join.”
Deal! Absolutely!
Song Yue’s heart hammered against her ribs.
Compared to her last Instance, where she’d started by fleeing a flood and constantly relocating her base, meeting a legend like this was incredibly lucky.
Song Yue was unaware that while she spoke with Elder Qiu, Zhou Shuhan’s sneering hadn’t ceased.
A bookworm who can only memorize answers for exams but is a complete disaster in practice? What good is she?
Elder Qiu must be getting old. His judgment is worse than mine.
Then again, Zhou Shuhan reconsidered. Decades ago, Elder Qiu had indeed been a dominant figure in agricultural science. Even though he had since vanished from the public eye, his past achievements alone were enough for a blockhead like Song Yue to cling to as a way to climb the ladder.
“Aren’t you angry that someone is poaching your team member right in front of you?” a voice interrupted his thoughts.
Meng Sheng looked at him meaningfully.
Zhou Shuhan sneered. “I couldn’t be happier to pass her off. Just thinking about her staying on my team makes my chest ache.”
“Let me rephrase,” Meng Sheng said. “Aren’t you worried she’ll actually achieve something under Elder Qiu?”
Zhou Shuhan laughed outright. “Elder Qiu was a legend, sure, but that was then. His team has been gone for years; he’s been working alone ever since. He’s so desperate for help he’ll take anyone. Perfect. Song Yue knows nothing, so she can be his new errand girl.”
After speaking, Zhou Shuhan narrowed his eyes, his smile utterly relaxed.
It was common knowledge in the Star Nation that Qiu Rongyao was a relic of the past.
His research had once briefly benefited the country, but newer theories soon overturned his work, forming a new framework. This new system ushered in a new era, drastically boosting the Star Nation’s agricultural resources.
Stripped of his value, Qiu Rongyao was abandoned by the Financial Group. His team lost its funding and collapsed, officially disbanding thirty years ago.
The name Qiu Rongyao had been buried by history.
“The government only gave him an honorary title for his past contributions,” Zhou Shuhan said dismissively. “Otherwise, do you think he’d still have a name to use?”
Meng Sheng sneered.
“What’s so funny?” Zhou Shuhan frowned.
Meng Sheng spread her hands. “Nothing. You’re a heartless bastard, but I’ve always admired your style. How about we make a deal?”
Zhou Shuhan straightened up. “What kind of deal?”
“You’ve seen my resume,” Meng Sheng said. “The first-generation seeds I developed have a high yield, but they have one major flaw: they require massive amounts of water. The second-generation seeds are slightly improved, and I can confirm the yield is even higher, but…”
“But?” Zhou Shuhan prompted.
“They still need an enormous amount of water.” Meng Sheng shrugged, a glint in her eyes. “I know you specialize in irrigation. So, here’s my offer: I provide the second-generation seeds, you provide the irrigation technology. We develop them together, breaking the rule that core secrets cannot be shared.”
For a moment, Zhou Shuhan was tempted.
But the next second, he suppressed his interest. “What do you want in return?”
“You can’t afford what I want,” Meng Sheng said. “But if we collaborate, you’ll definitely get what you want. So, are you in or out?”
Zhou Shuhan was thrilled to be rid of Song Yue.
Song Yue, for her part, was more than happy to leave a team where everyone schemed against one another.
The result was a win-win.
However, there was a minor complication.
She Wen also wanted to leave the team and join Elder Qiu. But no matter how much she pleaded, she couldn’t persuade Qiu Rongyao to accept her.
Ultimately, it was Song Yue who intervened, vouching for She Wen’s background and highlighting her contributions to the team over the past month. Only after this did Elder Qiu reluctantly agree to let her join.
She Wen was ecstatic. Back in the dorm, she packed her bags in a frenzy, eager to flee the moment she could.
“Senior Sister Song, you have no idea,” She Wen said, knocking on Song Yue’s door after emerging from her own room. “I’ve been desperate to leave this place. But with my mediocre academic record and no standout achievements, no one wanted me. During graduation season, every B-rank research team rejected my application—except for Zhou Shuhan. Just thinking about it makes me sad.”
Song Yue listened but kept the truth to herself.
She had once stumbled upon a document in the office revealing that Zhou Shuhan hadn’t chosen She Wen by choice. The college had forced her onto his team to clear out graduates, and he’d had no choice but to accept her.
It was a painful truth, one Song Yue saw no need to share.
After all, according to the original owner’s memories, She Wen hadn’t been a bad teammate. She was hardworking and eager, often running errands for Song Yue and never complaining when Zhou Shuhan or Meng Sheng ordered her into the fields or to set up greenhouses.
Looking at She Wen was like seeing the real-life Zhu Mengchun.
Both had been held back by their lack of top-tier credentials, suffering silently as they navigated the professional world. Yet, neither had let that defeat them. Instead, they had doubled down, working diligently and steadily, using tangible results to compensate for their shortcomings.
People like this have potential, Song Yue thought.
She was confident She Wen wouldn’t disappoint Elder Qiu.