Chapter One: Could It Be an Illusion?

The blazing summer sun hung overhead, like a furnace pressed against his face, fiercely baking Zhong Di’s cheeks. The endless fields of cotton stretched as far as the eye could see. A gentle breeze brushed by, stirring the cotton leaves and making them rustle, bringing Zhong Di a brief moment of coolness.

Chongyang City, newly elevated to the status of a county-level city, still relied on agriculture to drive its economic development. The rest of its economic systems were immature, mostly still in the exploratory stage. Within the vast northwest region, Chongyang was the principal cotton-producing area, accounting for nearly a third of the northwest’s total cotton output. This could be attributed to the current agricultural planting model: with almost every process, barring a few exceptions, fully mechanized and standardized throughout the year, it saved a tremendous amount of labor and reduced countless costs. This was one of the key reasons Chongyang could be promoted to a county-level city.

The midday heat was unbearable, making it difficult for Zhong Di, a fresh graduate, to endure. His head began to buzz. The roar of the tractor filled his ears, making his already troubled mind feel even more muddled.

“Zhong Di! Stop daydreaming—keep up with the machine!”

A voice boomed from nearby. It was his mentor, Wang Lu, whose hair was slightly graying. Wang Lu, with over twenty years’ experience in large-scale fieldwork, possessed ample frontline expertise—precisely why Zhong Di had chosen him as his teacher.

Zhong Di was momentarily dazed, his head still buzzing. His eyes stared at the blurry spray tractor before him, feeling as if he might drift away from this world.

He steadied himself and shouted, “Yes, Master!”

This was his own chosen path: after graduation, he went straight to the production line, hoping to become a top agricultural expert. He didn’t expect to match the brilliance of his idol, Old Master Yuan, but he wanted to achieve something significant, to contribute his share to the great nation.

Yet, how long had it been, and he was already struggling against the scorching weather? Last week had been tolerable—the sun wasn’t as fierce—but today, it was truly overwhelming.

Just as he was about to give up, Zhong Di thought of Old Master Yuan. He had an idol; he couldn’t shame his idol. Reinvigorated, Zhong Di slapped his head firmly and refocused his attention.

“Always observe every minute difference you see—sometimes, that tiny difference can greatly affect the cotton yield for the year,” Wang Lu explained the key points as he watched Zhong Di.

He liked this young man, which was why he shared some of his experience with him. Nowadays, few young people were willing to step into the production frontline—the reason was simple: they simply couldn’t endure the hardship. Most started enthusiastically but couldn’t last a day. When Zhong Di chose him, Wang Lu hadn’t refused only because of the company’s arrangements. At first, he intended not to teach him anything, thinking the boy would surely quit within three days. Yet, Zhong Di had persisted, and only yesterday had Wang Lu begun to slowly teach him.

Seeing Zhong Di following the machine while carefully observing, Wang Lu nodded in satisfaction.

“Do you know why I want you to follow the machine? Actually, this area was supposed to be sprayed by drone, but then you wouldn’t have the opportunity to learn on-site and gain experience.”

Wang Lu’s tone was calm as he revealed why they were using the tractor for spraying today. Nowadays, except when training new agricultural technicians, drones were used for spraying whenever possible. Though drone technology wasn’t fully mature, it was sufficient for current production and helped greatly in saving costs.

“Thank you, Master.” Zhong Di understood this, so he knew Wang Lu was allowing him to learn. Words of gratitude were customary.

He spoke little—not because he didn’t want to, but because his head felt as if it might explode, and he really didn’t want to say more.

“Do you remember today’s pesticide application?” Wang Lu quickly asked a technical question, then looked at Zhong Di with a hint of expectation.

“Abamectin at a dilution of two thousand, Dimehypo at three thousand, combined with monoammonium phosphate at a thousand for foliar spraying,” Zhong Di recalled and replied.

Wang Lu nodded, “Tell me your understanding.”

Looking at the cotton that hadn’t been sprayed yet, Zhong Di noticed the leaves drooping slightly, the tender leaves yellowed, lacking the rich green. He judged silently.

“Recent temperatures are high; the leaves show signs of water deficiency and nitrogen deficiency. Using abamectin and dimehypo together is mainly to control spider mites. The monoammonium phosphate is to supplement the plant’s nitrogen deficiency.”

As soon as Zhong Di finished, his head clouded and he suddenly lost consciousness. But it lasted only a moment—his awareness quickly returned, even sharper than before.

“Hmm, your explanation is basically correct, but it’s too general. For regular production, this would suffice, but at the scale the company operates, your level is better kept to yourself,” Wang Lu said, though inwardly he was very satisfied. Outwardly, he refrained from showing it. If you want to ruin someone, the best way is to praise them excessively—but Wang Lu had no such intention.

Returning to his senses, Zhong Di stared in disbelief at the cotton before him, rubbing his eyes. The cotton seemed different in his eyes; he could clearly see many peculiar features. It was as if the cotton was speaking to him, conveying something.

The main problem seemed to be water deficiency!

This absurd notion flooded Zhong Di’s mind—why did he feel like the cotton was talking to him? It must be an illusion. He rubbed his eyes again, and when he opened them, the strange feeling was gone. Zhong Di breathed a sigh of relief; thankfully, he no longer felt it—otherwise, he might have thought he was hallucinating.

“Zhong Di... Zhong Di...”

His mentor’s voice suddenly rang in his ears.

“Ah... Master.”

Once he regained his composure, Zhong Di quickly responded, though his mind was still occupied with the strange sensation he had just experienced.

Wang Lu frowned, his expression slightly displeased. “What are you doing? I just asked you a question—do you have any leads?”

Zhong Di shook his head, thinking to himself, “I didn’t hear a thing just now—how could I have any insight?” So he feigned ignorance; otherwise, his master would surely be angry.

“Remember, for those of us who do large-scale crop protection, keen observation is essential. Always pay attention to subtle differences. An experienced agricultural technician can stand here and immediately identify both the current and potential problems of this cotton field,” Wang Lu said, his bearing shifting as he spoke about his expertise.

“Master, I have a question. Setting aside abamectin and dimehypo for controlling spider mites, which I understand, regarding the nitrogen deficiency, I think urea could also solve this problem well, and its nitrogen content is higher than monoammonium phosphate.”

Zhong Di certainly wouldn’t stay silent—it would make his mentor’s guidance seem pointless, and how could he continue under his mentor’s tutelage?

Upon hearing the question, Wang Lu grinned. His earlier efforts weren’t in vain. He pondered for a moment, then knew precisely what to say.

“Alright, let me explain. As agricultural technicians, when we encounter a problem, we don’t just solve the immediate issue—we must also consider future ones.”

“What month is it now? July. So you must consider not only nitrogen deficiency but also flowering. Urea does supplement nitrogen well, but its main role is to promote seedling growth. If you use urea now, how will you control flowering later, or the plant’s growth vigor? That’s why we use monoammonium phosphate.”

“Monoammonium phosphate gently supplements nitrogen, but also provides phosphorus, which promotes flowering. A single foliar spray addresses more than just the present issue.”

Wang Lu quickly explained his understanding of this fertilizer application, and Zhong Di listened, nodding thoughtfully, absorbing his mentor’s deeper insights.

Ordinary people might view this problem narrowly, without much attention to detail, sometimes even being haphazard with concentrations. But his mentor was different—after twenty years of frontline experience, he was truly exceptional.

As Wang Lu and Zhong Di conversed, the tractor moved further away, and their voices grew clearer.

Zhong Di looked at the cotton, his gaze uncertain. Was that sensation earlier a hallucination, or was it real?

“Master, we’re using abamectin and dimehypo to control spider mites, which makes sense, but I feel the cotton plants are showing signs of water deficiency. If we apply abamectin and dimehypo as is, it’ll increase costs significantly. More importantly, there’s no clear basis for this approach—it feels odd.”

The information the cotton had seemed to relay to him was water deficiency. He asked to probe further—otherwise, he wouldn’t sleep tonight, just worrying about this one thing.

“Oh? Are you questioning my judgment?”

A slightly weathered voice sounded behind Zhong Di. His mentor, Wang Lu, looked at him with a hint of nervousness, then gave him frantic signals.