Recalling those troublesome days made Ji Xiu feel a subtle twinge in his heart.
He still remembered that because of the other party’s constant nitpicking, he had once considered ending the cooperation entirely.
A shortsighted partner would never create a mutually beneficial deal, only drag down one’s own success. With employees like that, the hotel was doomed to fail. He would rather let the strawberries rot in the fields than deal with their harassment.
Why hadn’t he ended it back then…?
Ah, right. Ji Xiu recalled: about half a month into the collaboration, the other party suddenly started behaving, no longer causing trouble. Gradually, he had forgotten about them entirely.
Unexpectedly, they would pop up again.
“Hello? Are you listening?” the procurement manager, Wu Zhizhan, called, speaking at length. Ji Xiu didn’t respond immediately, and Wu’s tone grew impatient.
“Mr. Wu?” Ji Xiu finally replied.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Wu admitted casually.
As expected.
Ji Xiu’s tone turned cold. “Do you have something to say?”
“You—what kind of tone and attitude is that?” Wu Zhizhan, the hotel’s procurement manager and head of a lucrative department, had always been pampered. Hearing Ji Xiu’s words displeased him. “I was planning to discuss long-term cooperation with you properly.”
Ji Xiu smiled faintly. “Unfortunately, I have no interest in cooperating with your hotel.”
“Don’t give me the usual excuses. I know—you’re just complaining about the low price. Fine, fine, we’ll double it. Is that satisfactory?”
Wu rambled, mixing bribery with threats.
“Ji Xiu, I know you have other channels now and don’t worry about sales. But don’t forget, when you first came seeking cooperation, if we hadn’t helped you, your little farm would have collapsed long ago. One should repay kindness with generosity. You owe us—so you shouldn’t refuse.”
All the sweet talk and guilt-tripping—what could Ji Xiu say?
His tone grew icier, giving Wu a taste of his own medicine. “Mr. Wu, the more you speak like this, the more it proves you’re asking for something. If you’re asking, then you should have the attitude of a petitioner. If you continue to speak like this, there’s nothing more to discuss.”
“You…”
Ji Xiu silently listened to the heavy breathing of Wu’s anger on the phone, saying nothing.
After two minutes of stalemate, Wu could no longer hold it and finally said, “Ji Xiu, don’t go too far.”
Though it was a threat, Ji Xiu laughed.
“Mr. Wu, show some sincerity. If you dawdle further, I won’t have the patience to wait.”
“All right… all right. Everything at five times market price—that’s my limit.”
“Well, I’ll give you a straight answer too: I’m not satisfied.”
“You’re crazy! Not satisfied? You think you can do that?”
“Ten times the market price. Send someone to procure. Don’t forget, you’re the one asking me.”
“All right, fine!” Wu sneered through gritted teeth. “Ji Xiu, what delusions are you living in? Our hotel is massive—why would we beg a tiny farm owner? We won’t do this deal. Good luck.”
The click of the hang-up echoed through the line.
Ji Xiu didn’t care; he had never intended to continue cooperating with the hotel. His demands were merely meant to inconvenience Wu. Achieving that, he was perfectly satisfied.
Ten minutes later, Ji Xiu’s phone rang again. It was Professor Qian.
“小 Ji, it’s fine not cooperating. I think that Wu Zhizhan’s attitude is just too unpleasant.”
“You’re okay?” Ji Xiu asked, worried that his harsh words might have caused Wu to do something rash to the professor.
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Qian laughed.
In today’s world, capital was everywhere. Clearly, a mere hotel procurement manager could not threaten a university professor, so there was no real danger.
Ji Xiu thought about it and agreed. “Still, I think the hotel may linger on this issue, so stay away from the hotel and focus on your experiments.”
“Of course. I won’t interfere. Once my student has final confirmation, I’ll contact you again.”
Ji Xiu smiled and hung up.
He knew the hotel valued his farm’s produce—after all, they wouldn’t so easily let go of such high-quality products.
Meanwhile, feedback from the new products in their Taobao store started to arrive.
[Just look at the photos, irresistible!] Five images attached.
The delivery: all items well-packaged and protected.
A sliced watermelon: juicy red flesh, a few black seeds, visually refreshing.
Vegetables: from green beans to radishes, tomatoes to lettuce, all spotless, without a single blemish.
A child of five or six happily eating from their own bowl.
An empty table: all vegetables consumed, only a few bites of braised pork left.
Shortly after posting, more detailed feedback appeared:
[My child ate all the vegetables without me chasing after them—so happy! I also recommended the store to my colleagues. The vegetables taste amazing, the price is fair.]
Other parents followed quickly, commenting on their children’s enjoyment, sharing experiences, and placing orders themselves.
Within a short time, the store’s reviews filled with praise. The new vegetables, priced at three times market value, were accessible for most customers, who eagerly recommended them to others.
This created a self-sustaining cycle of sales: first-time buyers became repeat buyers, who then brought in new customers.
Half a month later, the number of new customers had risen substantially.
Jingyu noticed their store trending on Weibo—not at a high rank, only thirteenth—but it was a genuine reflection of customers’ experiences.
The spark? A post by Cao Jian showing himself eating a tomato, captioned: “A little warm, eating some fruit feels great.”
The tomato debate—fruit or vegetable—has always been contentious, much like the sweet-and-savory arguments between north and south.
Cao Jian’s followers, having tasted Jingfeng Mountain’s tomatoes themselves, supported his claim that they were indeed fruit.
Netizens quickly turned Jingfeng Mountain into a viral destination: tourists wanted to see the scenery; foodies wanted to taste the produce.
When Ji Xiu returned from the provincial city to supply the hotel, he realized their farm had become a hotspot, with the online store overwhelmed by orders—supply needed to be limited to manage demand.
Ji Xiu sighed, realizing he would need to increase vegetable cultivation to balance supply.
At that moment, Qi Xiangkang arrived.
“I thought the crayfish was sent already?” Ji Xiu asked.
“Yes, yes, it was. The opening was a huge success, and the crayfish sold like crazy,” Qi replied. “But I’d like to get some of your vegetables, too. Can you supply one or two hundred pounds daily? My store needs them.”
Ji Xiu raised an eyebrow—he hadn’t expected this.
Qi smiled innocently. “With these, I can feel assured.”
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