The second-hand electric tricycle was older than Lin Feng expected. Its green paint was faded and scratched, and one of its cargo-box side panels had a dent. But the seller, a weary-looking man who ran a small fruit stand, assured him the battery was solid. "It'll run sixty kilometers on a charge, easy. Carries three hundred kilos. Perfect for hauling."
Lin Feng handed over the thick stack of cash—1,200 yuan, still warm from being tucked inside his jacket. It felt like handing over a piece of his safety net. The seller counted it meticulously, nodded, and handed him the keys and a battered registration booklet.
"You need a license for this, you know," the man said offhandedly.
"I'll get it sorted," Lin Feng replied, though he had no idea how. One problem at a time. First, he had to see if it ran.
He climbed onto the hard metal seat, turned the key. The tricycle hummed to life, a steady electric whirr that sounded like promise. He drove it in a slow circle around the empty parking lot behind the fruit market. The steering was heavy, but it moved smoothly. The large, open cargo bed behind him was empty, a blank canvas.
This was it. His "farm vehicle."
He drove it cautiously through the city streets, feeling self-conscious. On his nimble delivery bike, he was just part of the traffic flow. In this bulky green trike, he felt like a moving obstacle. But by the time he reached the outskirts, his nerves had settled into a low buzz of excitement.
He parked by his riverside plot. In the late afternoon light, the progress was even more striking. The tomato plants now had clusters of green marbles. The cucumber vines were a web of green, dotted with yellow flowers and tiny, spiky fruits. It had been barely a week. In normal farming time, this would be a miracle. For him, it was just… schedule.
He spent the next two hours harvesting. He worked methodically, using a cheap pocket knife to cut the mature heads of bok choy and spinach, placing them gently in clean, reusable mesh produce bags he'd bought in bulk. He didn't have enough for all his orders yet, but he'd have enough to satisfy his core customers and prove the new source.
The cargo box of the tricycle, when he loaded it, didn't even look half full. The sight filled him with a profound sense of possibility. This box could hold ten times what his delivery bike could.
That night, he made a plan. He drew a crude map of the city on a notepad, marking the locations of his fifteen regular vegetable customers. He clustered them into three zones: North, Central, and West. Instead of zigzagging across the city, he would deliver to one zone per day, rotating. This would save hours.
The next morning, he executed "Zone North." He loaded the tricycle with the harvested greens, plus the last of the balcony strawberries—a special treat for his earliest customers. Driving the trike felt more natural now. He parked in residential areas, texting customers to come down.
The system worked. Mrs. Chen was thrilled with the volume. "So much more! And they look even better," she exclaimed, hefting the bag.
"From the new land," Lin Feng said, allowing a hint of pride.
"Veggie Uncle's upgrading!" her little boy chimed in.
By 11 AM, the cargo box was empty, and he had over 600 yuan in cash. He drove to a quiet street, parked, and just sat for a moment, letting the reality sink in. He had made in three hours what used to take him two grueling days of food delivery.
The following days became a new, more sustainable rhythm.
· 5:30 AM: Wake, quick check on the field (by bike, as the trike was too conspicuous for the narrow path at dawn).
· 7:00 - 9:00 AM: High-priority breakfast food deliveries on his original electric bike. He was pickier now, only taking short-distance, well-paying orders.
· 9:30 AM: Return home, transfer harvested produce from the field (collected the previous evening) into the tricycle.
· 10:00 AM - 12:30 PM: Vegetable delivery run for one zone.
· Afternoon: A mix of light food deliveries, field maintenance (weeding, checking for pests, watering with the diluted Spiritual Spring mixture), and planning.
· Evening: The main "watering" session at the plot, followed by harvesting what would be ready for the next day.
The land was responding beautifully. His first ripe tomatoes from the field came on the tenth day after planting—deep red, heavy, and fragrant. He gave the first one to Mrs. Chen as a bonus. Her feedback was a voice message full of delight: "I made a simple salad with this and my husband asked if I used some expensive imported olive oil! It's just the tomato! Incredible!"
Demand was now officially outstripping supply. His customer list had grown to thirty, just through word of mouth. He needed to expand the planting area.
One evening, as he was finishing his watering, Brother Wang, the landowner, came strolling down the river path. Lin Feng's heart jumped into his throat. He casually nudged the watering can—now just holding plain river water—with his foot.
"Working hard, young man," Brother Wang said, his eyes scanning the plot. He whistled. "You've got a green thumb. This is… impressive. What are you feeding them?"
Lin Feng forced a shrug, wiping fake sweat from his brow. "Just hard work. And the river water's good here."
Brother Wang walked between the rows, inspecting the robust plants. "Hard work, sure. But this…" He picked a fat, green pepper that was just turning color. "This is market-grade, and fast. You thinking of expanding?"
The question was casual, but Lin Feng heard the interest behind it. An opportunity, or a risk?
"I… might need more space soon," Lin Feng admitted cautiously. "This is just a test."
"The plot next to this one," Brother Wang said, jerking his thumb toward an equally weedy, slightly larger patch to the west. "Same deal. Two acres. You want it, it's yours. Same price. Nine hundred for three months."
Lin Feng did the math. Four acres. Double the output. He could service maybe sixty or seventy regular customers. The income would be… stable. Actually stable.
"I'll take it," he said, the words out before he could second-guess.
"Smart," Brother Wang nodded, a businessman's smile on his face. "I'll bring the paper tomorrow. You know, if this keeps up, you might want to think about a proper lease. A year or two. Get some real security."
Security. The word echoed in Lin Feng's mind long after Brother Wang had left. He looked at his four acres—two producing, two waiting. He looked at his green tricycle, parked under a tree. He touched the pouch in his pocket.
For the first time in his life, the future didn't feel like a series of days to be survived. It felt like a field to be planted.