Chapter 182: Trouble at the Greenhouse

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The roar of the tractor echoed throughout the farm.

A large crowd had gathered, bustling with lively chatter and excitement.

Uprooting jujube trees was actually quite an easy task. All it took was a powerful tractor pulling a steel cable tied around the base of the tree; a strong pull and the tree would come out effortlessly.

Planting trees was hard; destroying them was easy.

To cultivate a good tree took at least five or six years, sometimes over a decade, even centuries, while destroying one took just a minute—sometimes not even that long.

After breakfast, Zhong Di arrived at the tree-pulling site. Though not one to enjoy crowds or idle gossip, this was his own farm after all.

Minor changes could be overlooked, but major ones deserved his attention.

He saw an uncle driving the tractor while another hooked the steel cable around the base of a tree. As the tractor moved forward, the tree was uprooted, and then they moved on to the next.

The model 400 tractor swiftly uprooted jujube trees one after another.

This tractor was rear-wheel drive, not suitable for heavy-duty tasks, but easily capable of pulling out trees.

Ever since his farm began turning a profit, Zhong Di had equipped it fully with agricultural machinery, including various small machines like walk-behind cultivators.

Having so many machines for just sixty acres was overkill, but there was also a program to convert farmland back to forest, so the investment was justified.

Among the jujube trees slated for removal, none possessed any spiritual vitality; those rare trees were mostly planted on the southern side.

The northern land was windy and harsh; jujube trees there were either dead when planted or died due to poor care.

In short, it was impossible to cultivate a proper orchard there.

Even such hardy jujube trees couldn’t withstand the environment; other fruit trees would likely fare no better.

The plan was to convert this land into greenhouses, which would shield the southern trees from the wind and enable steady growth.

The eastern plot, where the jujubes were being uprooted, had already been cleared of vegetables a few days prior, so the tree removal wouldn’t affect anything—this was all premeditated and executed swiftly.

Since the farm started producing seasoning products, all agricultural outputs found a market. Even inedible parts like roots were processed into seasonings with surprisingly good results.

This opened up considerable operational flexibility.

After watching for a while, Zhong Di lost interest. Uprooting trees, hauling them away, cutting them down, crushing them, and composting back into the soil was nothing new or exciting.

The customers, however, watched eagerly—most had never seen such agricultural operations firsthand.

As loyal clients of the farm, these people were generally well-off. Few were actual farmers; most were well-paid middle-class professionals, top talents from various industries, or private business owners.

They harbored some curiosity about farming—some out of pure interest, others perhaps out of nostalgia.

“Zhong Di, do you have a moment?” Shao Hong approached.

His expression was serious, a rare sight, for Shao Hong usually seemed quite cheerful on the farm. Such a look likely meant something was amiss.

“Yes, what is it?” Zhong Di asked directly, cutting to the chase.

“There are whiteflies in the greenhouse. Some vegetable seedlings have mysteriously lost most of their stems and leaves,” Shao Hong said, frowning but not overly anxious.

After all he had been through, Shao Hong was no longer the young man who panicked at minor setbacks.

Panic and agitation solved nothing. Only by facing problems head-on could one find solutions.

“I’ll go take a look.”

From the seedling trays to now—these plants had grown into small seedlings, though still only bearing their cotyledons, no true leaves yet.

As Shao Hong described the issue, Zhong Di already had a hypothesis, though he needed to verify it.

Agriculture was full of uncertainties.

Until one saw the problem firsthand, the true cause remained unknown.

The greenhouse was close by; they arrived shortly.

Upon entering, Zhong Di immediately spotted one or two small, white insects.

The day the farm had rested, these pests hadn’t appeared. How could whiteflies emerge so quickly in just two days?

“Shao Hong, come here,” Zhong Di called.

Shao Hong led him to a spot and gently shook a newly sprouted seedling.

Several whiteflies fluttered up.

“These whiteflies have been lurking quietly, which is why they were only just discovered. See, if you don’t disturb them, they all hide under the leaves of the weeds.”

Zhong Di looked closely and confirmed this was indeed the case.

He casually caught one to examine.

“This might not be a whitefly,” Zhong Di murmured, continuing his inspection. “Actually, it’s not a whitefly but a tobacco whitefly.”

“Their wings arch upwards, whereas whiteflies have flatter wings and are generally larger.”

He vaguely recalled a book mentioning that in the northwest region, tobacco whiteflies were more common.

As the primary whitefly species in greenhouses, tobacco whiteflies thrived in the abundant sunshine and high summer temperatures—often nearing or exceeding 40 degrees Celsius.

Tobacco whiteflies were far more heat-tolerant than regular whiteflies, which explained their prevalence there.

His greenhouse was newly built and had previously undergone a high-heat fumigation treatment, so it was surprising the pests had proliferated so rapidly.

Zhong Di considered the possibility that a nearby greenhouse cluster might be infested with tobacco whiteflies and had recently employed aggressive pest control measures.

Such actions could have prompted a mass migration of tobacco whiteflies.

Perhaps these pests hadn’t multiplied here in a short time but had migrated from elsewhere and remained hidden.

Where exactly was this greenhouse cluster causing such severe infestations? Nearby, he hadn’t heard of any large-scale greenhouse operations.

“Though I’m no expert, if you say these are tobacco whiteflies, then I trust you. What should we do? Should we try fumigation?” Shao Hong suggested.

“No, fumigation would make the whole greenhouse stink and ruin the tropical fruit trees. I’ll think of another solution.”

Zhong Di began pondering.

Since the farm adhered to green principles, applying chemical pesticides was out of the question.

Even chemicals with rapid decomposition and near-zero residue were unacceptable.

Given this, only biological and physical control methods remained.

High-temperature fumigation was a good idea but clearly not appropriate now.