The first delivery went out quietly.
Lin Feng didn't wear a suit. He didn't drive a van with his farm logo plastered on the side. He simply packed the herbs in carefully lined crates, chilled them with reusable ice packs, labeled them with a nondescript sticker: "Local Greens – Batch 01", and dropped them off at a third-party cold storage depot in the outskirts of Dongcheng.
He liked it that way.
Clean, anonymous, efficient.
FreshBrew's procurement team handled the rest.
By the next morning, his shiso leaves were in iced lychee drinks, and his lemon balm floated in sparkling citrus spritzers in three cafés across the city.
No one knew they came from a space where time ran 100 times slower.
No one knew the man behind them had spent nearly a week inside his inner realm selecting, harvesting, and packing that batch with precision.
He watched FreshBrew's official WeChat account post a photo:
> ✨ New Summer Menu Drop ✨
Featuring ingredients from local micro-growers.
Come sip something fresh.
There were no names. No tags.
But the picture said it all: a translucent drink with his edible flowers floating like jewels on top.
He felt something in his chest tighten—not fear, but a strange mix of pride and control. The kind that came from influencing the world without anyone seeing the strings.
---
The next few days passed in a blur.
Orders from regular customers on his own Lin Chen Farm mini-program had stabilized at a manageable rate. He kept the cap at 50 boxes a day and stopped restocking certain SKUs, deliberately creating a sense of scarcity.
It worked. Each box sold out within minutes of release.
He began setting alarms to sneak into the inner realm and rotate crops every two "hours" outside—which gave him more than eight days of inner time between batches.
Efficiency climbed.
Quality never wavered.
More importantly, his real-world self still had time to rest, read news, and start planning Phase 2.
But then came something he hadn't predicted.
---
On the fourth day of the FreshBrew collaboration, Liu Ying sent him a voice message.
> "Hey! I saw your herbs today. I think they're yours—my friend dragged me to this fancy café downtown. The shiso leaves were perfect. I asked the staff, and they just said it was from a 'local small-batch farm.' I knew it had to be you!"
He chuckled. So much for total invisibility.
He replied with feigned innocence.
> "Could be someone else. A lot of good growers around."
> "Liar. I recognized your packaging on the back shelf. Your handwriting is too neat."
He laughed aloud this time.
> "Okay, you caught me."
She didn't reply right away.
Then:
> "You're seriously doing something incredible, you know that?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he glanced around his rented apartment—tiny kitchen, plain walls, squeaky fan overhead—and wondered what it would all look like in six months.
Or a year.
Would he still be here?
Would he still be doing this all by himself?
He wasn't sure.
But he had no intention of slowing down.
---
By the weekend, his herbs had quietly become the it ingredient for café mixologists across Dongcheng.
The floral mint, in particular, became a minor sensation.
People started posting TikTok-style videos of drinks they customized with it—iced plum tea, mojitos, even herb-infused milk.
FreshBrew never named their supplier.
But a few foodie accounts noticed similarities in packaging and posted side-by-sides with Lin Chen Farm boxes.
One video even captioned:
> "Lin Chen Farm = secret supplier? 🤔🔥"
The view count? 40K in two days.
Lin Feng wasn't alarmed—but it was a reminder.
Popularity was a flame. Get too close, and the heat followed.
---
The next unexpected ripple came from a completely different direction.
He was in the realm, cleaning the irrigation filters by hand, when his phone—which he left just inside the stone entrance of the space—buzzed repeatedly.
When he finally stepped out and checked it, there were multiple messages.
But one name stood out.
[Xu Yuhan – Requesting to Connect on WeChat]
Lin Feng's brow furrowed.
He didn't recognize the name.
There was no profile photo, just a muted skyline.
Then, almost at the same time, a second message popped in from Liu Ying:
> "Heads-up! My friend Yuhan saw your name on our mutual contact list. She works in sustainable media content and food documentation. Might reach out—she's super sharp. Don't ignore her 😄."
He remembered the name now.
Xu Yuhan.
They had been in the same university circle once, though barely spoke. Rumor had it she went to work for a niche digital media company focused on environment and urban renewal. Independent. Tough. Didn't flatter sponsors. One of those rare content creators whose articles actually made people think.
He tapped the request and accepted.
Immediately, a message appeared.
> Xu Yuhan: "Hi, Lin Feng. I hope this isn't sudden. I've been following some café ingredient sources for a story, and your name came up through multiple small-batch accounts. I was wondering if you'd be open to a quick interview—off the record to start."
Lin Feng hesitated.
He had no reason to distrust her.
But he wasn't ready to explain how his herbs looked that fresh… year-round… in that quantity.
He responded politely:
> Lin Feng: "Hi. Thanks for reaching out. I try to stay under the radar. No press at this time. Still sorting out infrastructure."
A pause.
Then:
> Xu Yuhan: "Totally understand. But just so you know—people are noticing. You might want to get ahead of the story before someone less honest writes it for you."
Lin Feng leaned back, rereading the message.
It wasn't a threat. It wasn't even pressure.
It was… advice.
From someone who sounded like she understood the game.
He filed the name away in his mind.
And decided: if he ever had to go public, she might be the one worth talking to.
---
That night, inside the realm, he walked barefoot across the soft grass of his private valley.
He'd spent the past week preparing a new section for vertical hydroponics—easier to control water and light ratios.
Nearby, the mushroom zone had begun yielding high-quality lion's mane and snow ear fungus.
He'd already tested pulling them out—they transitioned perfectly into the real world.
Exotic mushrooms could sell for premium prices. He'd add that to the next batch.
But as he stood under the stars, a question bloomed quietly in the back of his mind:
How long can I stay invisible?
He didn't know.
But he'd stretch that moment as long as he could.
---
End of Chapter 8