RHWHEG – Chapter 28 Penguin Farm

Penguin Farm was an idle game that spread like wildfire through a chat mini-program.

“A penguin discovered a farm in Antarctica and decided to grow a variety of food crops to survive the global warming crisis!”

That was the entire plot. Every sentence was filled with things you could nitpick, and the copywriting was nothing short of genius.

In front of Yu Qunqing was a row of glowing boxes. Only the very top one was unlocked, labeled “Ordinary Farm / Level 1 Crop / Berry Bush.”

The land beneath his feet was divided into modules, such as “Flame Farm,” “Undersea Farm,” and “Witch’s Garden Farm.” Currently, only the Ordinary Farm was open.

This farm could only plant sixteen units of crops, and Yu Qunqing filled it all up with berry bushes.

Then all he had to do was wait.

One minute later, the berry bushes matured and started producing food—one berry every three minutes. Yu Qunqing picked the first one and popped it into his mouth. It was sweet and refreshing. After harvesting sixteen berries, the top of the game interface showed “Growth Value / 16.” It looked like the berries converted at a 1:1 ratio.

“If you water the crops, it seems like they’ll grow faster.”

Following the instructions, Yu Qunqing tapped on a berry bush, and a “+1” immediately floated above it. One tap meant watering once. If he kept tapping, the “+1” kept appearing, until he quickly racked up “100.” Then the number stopped increasing.

“One unit of berry bush has reached its growth limit, hurry up and log in to collect!”

In an instant, Yu Qunqing gained 100 berries.

The reason this game was so addictive was simple—the low-cost starting operations, coupled with the fast, massive rewards, could easily overwhelm players’ self-control. As long as you tapped, you gained something. Wasn’t that better than a typical idle game? And on top of that, there was also an upgrade system.

“Try merging two berry bushes that have reached the limit and see what happens?”

After combining them, an apple tree appeared. It produced one apple every six minutes, or if you tapped twice, it consumed two growth value to produce one apple instantly. Human tapping speed was fast, and its upper limit was 300 growth value, meaning he could harvest 150 apples in one go. At the same time, Yu Qunqing could also directly plant an apple tree for 100 growth value.

Because it was easy to pick up and gave out plenty of rewards, people couldn’t resist staying online. Players were lured in by the promise of an “idle game, free your hands”—only to end up becoming tap-addicted machines. Its programming was simple; you could play it directly in a chat app mini-program. Plus, there were countless reskinned versions—running a shop to become rich, raising cats for a cat café, rising to officialdom in ancient times, and so on. It was one of those little games that exploded in popularity.

At this moment, that convenience was exactly what helped Yu Qunqing. He merged two apple trees together and got a sunflower patch. But when he kept tapping, the production speed slowed down, and he could only tap one crop unit at a time.

“You have planted 3 types of crops. Farm Shop unlocked! Illustrated Handbook unlocked!”

The first item in the shop was “Little Penguin’s Help.” Buying it made each tap count as ten taps. It cost 1000 growth value and could be upgraded.

Big Penguin’s Help made each tap simultaneously count for the surrounding eight units as well. Same cost, also upgradeable.

A thousand taps went by in the blink of an eye. Burning through growth value so quickly was painful, but thinking of how what you lost would return multiplied—it was painful yet exhilarating.

A new item appeared: Emperor Penguin’s Blessing—doubles the farm’s production speed (upgradeable up to 60×), for 10,000 growth value.

Since he’d already spent 1000, saving up for 10,000 didn’t feel too far off. Besides, once he bought it, even the idle aspect of the game would become much easier.

Although… although his fingers were getting a bit tired…

From the outside, it just looked like Yu Qunqing was holding a strange water jug. It didn’t seem too bizarre.

Very soon, all the penguin assistance upgrades were raised to Level 1. The fifth crop appeared: watermelon vines. He patted a round watermelon, and from the sound alone he could tell it was sweet.

“You’ve harvested so much growth value, the Ordinary Farm has started to expand!”

The Ordinary Farm unlocked nine new slots, giving him twenty-five in total, with a maximum of sixty-four. After that, the next type of farm would be unlocked. Each time players reached a milestone, a new thrill awaited them, luring them deeper into the game without realizing it. Sometimes the penguin would even hint: “Once all the farms are filled with crops, with each plot growing something different, it’ll look like a grand exhibition hall!”

For completionist players, this was enough to keep them grinding for a full illustrated collection.

For Yu Qunqing, the harvest was even greater. So far, he had collected 563 berries, 422 apples, 402 sunflower seeds, 210 bunches of grapes, and 66 watermelons. Once harvested, they were all stored in the dimensional warehouse.

According to the handbook, after Level 10, he could start planting rice. He was really looking forward to that moment.

But first, he needed to think of a way to put all these crops to good use.

After upgrading the Emperor Penguin’s Blessing to Level 2, Yu Qunqing forced himself to quit the game and return to the Match-Three Community.

Switching to decoration mode, he saw several glowing spots on the first floor of Building 4, meaning it wasn’t fully renovated yet. The exterior had been roughly finished before, but the rest were functional rooms that Yu Qunqing hoped would give him what he wanted.

“Oh no, the property management office door is blocked! Spend 1 Hexagram Star to clear it out!”

Using up his remaining Hexagram Stars, a bright, spacious office appeared, complete with a desk and chair set, and a calligraphy plaque reading “Friend of the Homeowners.”

Yu Qunqing then grabbed a little crocodile, placed it on the desk, and bought a tiny animal-sized pair of glasses to rest on its long snout.

Yu Qunqing: “Crocodile Administrator, please don’t be late for work from now on.”

The little crocodile whimpered. Its cries weren’t fierce at all—more like a baby’s. Its eyes were unusually large, dark and shiny like glass ornaments. Yu Qunqing couldn’t resist lifting it by the tail with one hand, giving it a little shake, and watching its four little claws flail helplessly.

Bullying a baby crocodile… didn’t seem very moral.

So Yu Qunqing appointed the little crocodile as an administrator in the community management interface.

Then he opened the diamond shop and spent his remaining two diamonds on an item called “Program Materialization.” It could be made into a data interface linking two games. The experience was strange—he was clearly coding in mid-air, but he couldn’t remember what language he was using. He only had to speak out the command, and the data would echo back like mountains answering his voice. By the time he was done, he felt as exhausted as a student cramming homework on the last night of summer vacation.

But the results were excellent. The property office on the first floor was now a trading station where residents could spend building materials to buy natural, unprocessed food. This improved their lives while also promoting community growth.

Yu Qunqing called for She Lulang, but the latter was busy restraining Lin Luyi, who was once again trying to escape. He had no choice but to look for Sun Min, and Grandma Sun followed along as well. They were both people he trusted, so he could let them try the system out and see what needed improvement.

“A shop popped up here?” Sun Min was puzzled at first. Then she spotted the little crocodile lying on the desk, wearing a pair of glasses. It looked rather cute. On the computer screen beside it was a menu. Sun Min’s eyes lit up in delight. “Three building materials for an apple—does this mean we can actually buy it? So cheap!”

Yu Qunqing clicked a bunch of fruits and vegetables on the screen, then transferred a bag of rice and a bag of dried meat from his own warehouse as payment for Sun Min’s work during the outing.

A shopping cart popped out from the mysterious little door in the office and rolled in front of Sun Min. From the outside, the door only looked like an empty wall, but in reality, it was linked to the otherworldly storage space of Penguin Farm.

Sun Min’s eyes filled with tears. “I haven’t eaten completely clean rice in so, so long. And meat! Damn it, that fragrance of meat—makes me never want to be human again!” He was clearly much livelier now compared to when he first arrived.

“Grandma, I’ll go cook right away,” he said.

“No, no, buy the sunflower seeds. Those seeds.” Grandma Sun suddenly insisted. “I’ll press some oil for you. That’s the real fragrance. And it’ll even sell well. Well—at least it used to. Now it’s building materials, no more money.”

Yu Qunqing thought for a moment, then quickly added another section of code. By now, he was so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, he grabbed Sun Min’s arm and said he hadn’t seen everything yet.

“A message board for tasks!” Sun Min turned and spotted a huge whiteboard hanging on the wall, instantly understanding its purpose. “Now, when we want to form teams to go out, we can use this instead of knocking on doors one by one!”

Yu Qunqing added, “There are also tasks posted by the crocodile—cough, I mean, the Crocodile Immortal. Messages can distribute building materials to some extent. For example, if someone posts a task asking for sunflower oil and sets a reward, then whoever completes the task will receive the materials. It’s basically a kind of trade.”

He wasn’t capable of writing programs with overly complex logic.

“Wow! Grandma, the Crocodile Immortal is amazing! Is this administrator the child of the giant crocodile?” Sun Min asked.

The little crocodile whimpered and squawked.

Yu Qunqing petted its head, yawning as he scribbled down a user manual on the side, telling it, “If someone doesn’t understand, just have them read this paper.”

He went upstairs and happened to run into She Lulang. His eyelids were so heavy he couldn’t even greet him before suddenly blacking out.

When he woke up, he was in the therapy room with She Lulang and Lin Luyi nearby.

“Your ability went out of control and you fainted,” She Lulang explained bluntly. “You were only out for ten minutes. How do you feel?” His hand was tightly gripping Yu Qunqing’s.

From the nearby medical pod, Lin Luyi poked his head out. “You looked just like Pikachu, crackling with a million volts.” The memory made him instinctively uneasy—how could someone’s power running out of control look like transcending a lightning tribulation? Still, he refused to admit weakness. Instead, he sneered, “Only a few minutes of losing control and you already collapsed from energy drain? Haven’t seen you in hours and you’ve gotten weaker.”

Yu Qunqing’s pride smarted. That “Program Materialization” tool might have been cheap, but it required an enormous amount of energy. He’d only lost control because of exhaustion, but… only a few minutes and he collapsed? So he really was that weak?

He immediately started combing through his memory for which advanced catastrophes would be easiest to eliminate, planning to grab some rare disaster stones and hit LV2 first.

Just then, coincidentally, an ability-user recharged with a disaster stone, earning 200 building materials. The system logged the income. Yu Qunqing had disabled notification sounds and didn’t notice, but he did feel the tight ache in his temples ease considerably.

“I’m fine,” he told She Lulang. Then he noticed that She Lulang had been holding his hand the whole time. Only now did he realize.

She Lulang quickly let go, face stiffening slightly, before pulling his hand back.

Meanwhile, another ability-user had discovered the newly added office. Seeing cheap fruit for sale, he immediately roared like a lion for the upstairs residents to come down. A bunch of people followed to watch the commotion.

“Then I’ll try one—the cheapest berry.”

A bright red berry appeared in the shopping cart and was pushed out by an invisible force. As soon as the ability-user picked it up, the cart rolled back in. He carefully bit into it. Sweet juice burst in his mouth, soothing his long-parched throat. His eyes went wide, and he stuffed the entire berry into his mouth.

“It’s edible! It’s edible!” the crowd shouted in excitement, even more worked up than when they’d first seen the café. After all, coffee was still far too expensive. They rushed the desk, jostling to grab at the computer screen, completely ignoring the little crocodile.

The crocodile, perhaps angered, swung its tail once and knocked them all back.

Everyone’s skin burned as though whipped, and they froze in place.

This little crocodile—no, the distinguished Administrator Crocodile of Building Four—was its combat power a little too high?

Suddenly, the light inside dimmed as a massive crocodile eye peered in through the window. No one could guess what it was thinking, but the sheer gaze made them feel all equal before it. Everyone hurriedly lined up in order.

If a crocodile was part of the community, it made sense for its combat power to be this high.

Once calm, someone analyzed aloud: “The reason so much food suddenly appeared in the community is because we moved in. We all offered a disaster stone to that fountain sculpture.”

“The community evolves! The more disaster stones we provide, the faster it levels up, and the safer we’ll be!” More people caught on, voices filled with realization. “I didn’t believe it before when Uncle Zhang said it, but turns out it’s really true.”

“There’s even a task board. You can leave messages. It’ll be so much easier to form teams for expeditions now.” The crowd was full of wonder.

The people downstairs spoke loudly enough for the therapy room upstairs to hear.

060, still in the medical pod recovering, said enviously, “I want to earn money! Earn building materials! I want to live in a big house full of bathtubs. If the crocodile is willing to hire me, I’ll treat it like my own father.”

Lin Luyi muttered, “It’s an amphibian. Doesn’t play with mutant mermaids.”

“I still want to try.” 060 folded her arms. “I don’t have money—what about you? You’re not hungry?”

Lin Luyi laid his scarred hand on the edge of the pod and admitted honestly, “I’m hungry too.” He had once starved until his stomach hurt, and now his stomach had turned into a Venus flytrap-like plant, leaving him without any sensation at all.

060 grew curious. “Why do you keep trying to escape? I think everyone here is nice. The environment’s way better than the lab too. Don’t those two people who often come see you treat you well?”

“I don’t even know them,” Lin Luyi said viciously. “Didn’t you see them beating me? You call that treating me well?”

060 rolled over, her massive twin tails splashing water everywhere. She guessed, “Oh, maybe you had a grudge with them before?”

Lin Luyi fell silent, letting himself sink. He wasn’t afraid of suffocation. If he felt the pain of not being able to breathe, his lungs would naturally transform into aquatic plants. It would hurt, but he wouldn’t die. But the advanced therapy liquid had such low density that it didn’t suffocate him. The liquid wrapped around Lin Luyi like a cold embrace.

“I don’t have any memories…” Lin Luyi murmured softly.