The second room that had appeared opened into the hallway.
It was worth noting that, before this, there had been no hallway at all in Cheng Qisheng’s home.
Yet now one had simply appeared—and it was long. By her estimate, it covered roughly 100 square meters.
Cheng Qisheng slowly calculated the area of the second room.
When the Blue Sea Safe City had upgraded from Tier 1 to Tier 2, the safe city expanded to 1,600 square kilometers, and a 150-square-meter room appeared in her real-world home.
Now, after devouring the core of the Lord of the Universe, the safe city had expanded to 6,400 square kilometers, and another 1,100-square-meter planting area had appeared in her home.
Cheng Qisheng had originally expected the total area to be around 1,200 square meters, which would neatly match the calculation of (150 + 150) × 2 × 2. But there was also that extra 100-square-meter hallway outside, so in the end, the numbers still matched.
That meant 1,100 square meters of planting area and a 100-square-meter hallway.
What did 1,100 square meters actually mean in practical terms?
Most homes for a family of three were around 100 square meters, which meant Cheng Qisheng now had the equivalent of eleven such homes.
Even judging by sight alone, it was larger than two basketball courts combined.
The entire room had no roof and was filled with all kinds of fruit trees and vegetables. Some of the fruit trees were still nothing more than leafy saplings, while others had already borne fruit, and the vegetables had not yet fully matured.
At a glance, everything was lush and green.
Even before stepping inside—just standing at the doorway and looking in—she already felt refreshed, her mind unusually clear and open.
However, she quickly noticed a problem: all of these plants were species that also existed in her own world.
Different planets naturally had different vegetation. On Dark Star, only a small portion of the plant life overlapped with Blue Star, where Cheng Qisheng lived. The rest consisted entirely of species that did not exist on Blue Star.
She had originally planned to see whether this expansion would allow her to obtain some Dark Star plants.
As Cheng Qisheng walked past an apple tree, she picked an apple and glanced at the small bok choy that was still growing.
“So it really can only transplant plants that already exist on Blue Star?”
Fortunately, she had been careful. When setting up the basic room, besides placing a large proportion of the Dark Star plants she wanted, she had also deliberately included a small number of plants that existed on Blue Star as well.
Even though she hadn’t obtained any Dark Star plants, Cheng Qisheng remained in a good mood.
This was still fine. It was better than having a planting area filled with nothing but soil and no vegetation at all. It had saved her a great deal of trouble.
“Aether, tell me: after the safe city devoured the core, how many trees and vegetables were transplanted into the expanded City Lord’s room? And what species are they?”
Aether drifted over, its jellyfish-like body glowing faintly.
“Yes, City Lord. Aether will calculate it for you. During this expansion, the system automatically transplanted 150 pine trees from the City Lord’s Mansion, 15 maple trees, 3 dwarf cypress trees, 3 clusters of flame fruit, and as for ferns…”
Cheng Qisheng interrupted, “Wait. Flame fruit? What is that? Show me.”
Could it be that a Dark Star plant had slipped through?
Aether immediately displayed a virtual image. Small, bright red fruits clustered densely along the branches. They actually looked quite pretty.
The only problem was… why did they look so much like something she had seen before at a flower and bird market?
The difference was that the market version had been neatly trimmed into the shape of an ornamental bonsai, while these plants were wild and unruly.
Following Aether’s directions, Cheng Qisheng indeed found the three clusters of small fruit-bearing plants. She cut off a branch with the fruit still attached and took it to the entrance to photograph it.
Then she opened a map, found the owner of a bonsai shop, called him, added him as a friend, and even sent him a red packet as payment.
The shop owner replied with a voice message:
“This is firethorn, also called ‘lucky fruit.’ It’s a small ornamental shrub and looks quite nice. We sell it here—if you want one, I can give you a discount.”
Cheng Qisheng thanked the shop owner and politely declined his sales pitch. She then went online to double-check, comparing information from multiple sources.
Only then did she finally confirm it.
Yes—Dark Star’s “flame fruit” was Blue Star’s firethorn.
It was simply called by a different name.
Why was the name different?
Because Cheng Qisheng had never paid attention to it before.
She tapped one of the little red fruits and, through her consciousness connection, contacted the Pope, instructing him that from now on, “flame fruit” would be renamed “firethorn.”
No explanation was necessary.
The Creator God was allowed to be this arbitrary.
Otherwise, if even planetary languages were different, how could names like pine trees, maple trees, dwarf cypress, and various small animals possibly be identical to their names on Blue Star?
“Alright, Aether. Continue.”
“Yes, City Lord. As for vegetables, the system automatically transplanted the following from the Blue Sea planting area: 30 bok choy, 30 lettuce, 10 tomato plants, and 1 star fruit vegetable…”
Cheng Qisheng’s eyes lit up.
“Wait, wait—star fruit vegetable?”
“Yes, City Lord.”
Quick on the uptake, Aether immediately displayed a virtual image of the star fruit vegetable.
In truth, there was no need for the image.
Cheng Qisheng already knew exactly what it was.
The “star fruit vegetable” had originally been called simply “star fruit.” It was something like a combination of ginseng and reishi mushroom from Blue Star, though with much milder effects.
When cooked, it could calm the mind, improve sleep, relieve fatigue, and nourish the body. Nothing exaggerated, but genuinely beneficial.
Even on Dark Star, because of its excellent effects and slow growth, star fruit had long been one of the most expensive high-end tonics in history.
By the time modern civilization arrived, countless breeding experts had painstakingly researched it and finally developed a variety that only needed one year to mature while also producing relatively high yields.
This newer variety was called “star fruit vegetable.”
Although the improved version was not as potent as the original, it was still nourishing. At the very least, middle-class families could afford it, allowing far more people to eat it.
Ever since the black hole appeared beside Dark Star, the upper ranks of Blue Sea had been working themselves into a frenzy, constantly making decisions. Every day, they slept only two hours and still managed to function normally.
That was partly because Blue Sea’s leadership all possessed exceptionally strong constitutions—but it was also partly thanks to their daily consumption of star fruit vegetables.
With a hint of anticipation, Cheng Qisheng walked over to this plant from another world—the star fruit vegetable.
It looked like clusters of small, slightly translucent yellow multifaceted crystals. Under the lamplight at night, they really did resemble twinkling stars in the sky.
A single stalk of the new star fruit vegetable bore about thirty of these little “stars.”
Cheng Qisheng gently touched them, as though handling some precious treasure.
This was exactly what she had always wanted.
How many times had she lain in bed, unable to move, staring at the star fruit on Dark Star and aching with longing?
Back then, no matter what she tried, she couldn’t bring anything from Dark Star back with her.
Otherwise, she would have eaten truckloads of thousand-year-old star fruit long ago, just to see whether it could cure her ALS.
Even if it couldn’t cure her—if it could only ease the symptoms, that would have been enough.
Anything that helped at all would have been welcome.
Even now, with the safe city giving her a glimmer of hope, Cheng Qisheng had never given up searching for other ways to treat her condition.
Who said there could only be one method?
She could pursue several approaches at once.
She picked one yellow star fruit.
Although the century-old version from Dark Star hadn’t made it through, what stood before her now was the one-year “star fruit vegetable.”
Even if it was a weaker version, having it was still better than having nothing.
Thinking this, she still didn’t eat it immediately.
Instead, she cooked it first, broke off a small piece, and then slowly made her way downstairs with her cane, placing it beneath a tree.
This was the first time Cheng Qisheng had gone downstairs in a year.
When she reached the ground floor and saw the greenery around the residential complex, the neighbors passing by, and children running and playing, she took a deep breath.
All of this was real.
She had truly found a way to treat her illness.
She had truly turned an irreversible condition into something reversible.
Today was bright and sunny. The early-autumn sunlight felt warm against her skin.
Cheng Qisheng sat beside the flowerbed, tilting her head back to bask in the sun.
A neighbor was playing with a child on the nearby community playground. Seeing that Cheng Qisheng hadn’t moved for a long time, they couldn’t help glancing at her several times.
Her gaunt face, the fluffy hat she was already wearing despite it only being early autumn, and the cane beside her made everything clear.
She must have been a long-term patient who had only recently recovered enough to come outside for some fresh air.
By dusk, that small piece of star fruit vegetable had already been devoured by ants, flying insects, and other tiny creatures.
In front of Cheng Qisheng stood a neat row of disposable cups.
Each cup contained a small insect that had eaten the star fruit vegetable.
There were even several tiny flying insects—creatures so small and fast that ordinary people would have found them nearly impossible to catch.
But Cheng Qisheng had caught them.
She had even used tweezers without injuring them.
Her movements were several times slower than those of an average person, but her eyesight had become much sharper than before. She could clearly see the insects while they were flying and even predict their paths, waiting for them like a hunter lying in ambush.
She picked up the disposable cups one by one and examined them.
After an entire day, all the insects—including the ones that had eaten the star fruit vegetable earliest—were still completely unharmed.
In fact, they even seemed more energetic than before.
She released them.
The crawling insects quickly scurried away, while the flying ones fluttered their tiny wings and drifted off.
Kind of cute.
Cheng Qisheng realized that hundreds of billions of years spent tending Dark Star had still left her with certain aftereffects.
Now, no matter what kind of living creature she saw, she instinctively observed it with a certain degree of tolerance.
And as for why it was “tolerance” rather than something else—one only had to think about how the seven civilizations before “Old Eighth” had destroyed themselves.
There was also a strange sense of detachment toward life and death.
She could appreciate the sight of insects flying away, yet also gently place a leaf over an ant that had died several days earlier.
It was just like those years when she had watched seven civilizations rise, prosper, decline, and perish.
After covering the ant with a leaf, Cheng Qisheng suddenly snapped back to herself.
—No!
Being tolerant and appreciative was fine, but this whole “detachment toward life and death” thing absolutely wasn’t!
Hadn’t she first begun tending Dark Star precisely because she wanted to find a way to survive?
What nonsense about detachment toward life and death!
She wanted to live.
And she wanted to live for a long time, live happily, and live better than anyone else!
Cheng Qisheng quickly brushed the leaf off the dead ant.
Leaning on her cane, she returned home with strangely quick spirits but slow steps, washed her hands, and began eating the star fruit vegetable.
The good news: it worked.
Her body did indeed feel warm and much more comfortable.
The bad news: it had no effect on her “mortal body condition.”
Cheng Qisheng felt slightly disappointed, but she quickly cheered up again.
Now she had hope for treatment. She could walk and take care of herself. It hadn’t cost her a single cent, yet her home now had two enormous rooms: one study that didn’t even require her to pay electricity bills, and another that had become a forest filled with vegetables and tonics.
The ground floor was a commercial district. She lived high up in a tower, yet now had a farmland-like space where she could stroll whenever she wanted.
She really ought to be happy.
She placed a reclining chair in the pine forest and lay down comfortably, looking out toward the safe city.
The planting area that had appeared inside her home gave her an idea.
She could transplant Dark Star plants into her own space.
So could Blue Sea also transplant useful plants from the zombie world into the safe city?
And not only plants.
Animals too.
If they could search every world for high-yield edible species, then have experts study them, select them, breed them, hybridize them…
The more Cheng Qisheng thought about it, the more promising the idea seemed.
Other safe cities had neither the equipment nor the experts.
Everyone there lived constantly on the edge of a blade, fighting every single day, with no manpower or spare time to devote to something as time-consuming as breeding new crops.
But Blue Sea did.
Cheng Qisheng hesitated for a moment over whether to contact the President or the Pope.
In the end, she chose to send the message to the President.
Qin Zhi’s attitude toward divine revelations had always been the same:
—Any time! Any place! Divine revelation! Receive it with full seriousness!
The moment she received the revelation, she immediately sprang into action.
Blue Sea did have agricultural experts, but because the civilization had spent so long focused on external expansion, killing zombies, and fighting wars between safe cities—and because this world so clearly prioritized combat ability—any discipline related to the humanities had rapidly declined.
Although planting zones had been opened and many agricultural specialists had been reassigned to new positions, their numbers had fallen sharply.
After all, agricultural experts needed land to work with.
In the past, Dark Star had been vast. People were scattered across various cities. Some conducted agricultural research in major cities, while others went to rural areas and worked directly in the fields.
But now?
The entire safe city was only so large.
Even though the government had tried to free up as much land as possible, there still wasn’t enough for all the experts.
Among agricultural specialists, breeding experts had it even worse.
There was no helping it.
Blue Sea civilization was currently facing immediate, urgent survival problems, while developing a good new variety could take ten years or even longer.
And right now, zombies were everywhere outside.
The wars had only just ended.
The safe city was changing every single day.
They could not wait.
They truly could not wait.
Land resources were limited, so naturally priority had to be given to urgent matters.
The tide of the era surged forward like a flood, and every grain of soil swept away by it might represent an entire person’s life.
Many breeding experts had become those grains of soil.
Perhaps in three to five years, once Blue Sea had stabilized, they would be able to return.
But everyone understood clearly—
That time was not now.
Some of the experts changed careers.
Some decided to join combat teams and fight outside.
Some even went to work on construction sites.
And on this very day,
all of these breeding experts simultaneously received a message from the AI.