The winter wind howled through the cracks in the trees, a constant reminder that nature was the true master of these mountains. Lin Chen, Lin Mu, and Zhao Hu trudged through the snow-dusted path leading to Old Liu's farm at the edge of the village.
Old Liu was a man of the earth—broad-shouldered, skin the color of cured leather, and hands that looked like they could crush rocks. He stood by his fence, staring blankly at the animal inside the pen.
It was a Yellow Cow, the standard draft animal of the Great Qian Dynasty. It was thin, its ribs visible like the slats of a fan, and its coat was dull and patchy. But what caught Lin Chen's attention was the way the cow stood. Its weight was shifted entirely off its right hind leg, which was tucked up against its belly, the hoof hovering inches above the frozen mud.
"Old Liu!" Zhao Hu called out, waving a hand.
The farmer looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. He had been crying, a rare sight for a man of his stature. "Ah, Brother Zhao. And... the Scholar." He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "You're here to see the beast?"
"I heard you were selling," Lin Chen said gently, stepping closer. "I'm sorry about your loss."
"Loss?" Old Liu laughed bitterly. "The loss happened three months ago. Stupid animal slipped in a gully. Dislocated the hip. I paid the village bone-setter to fix it, but the man was a quack. He yanked it, wrapped it in leaves, and now she can't walk. Can't plow. Can't breed. Just eats my hay and looks at me with sad eyes."
He kicked the fence post. "The butcher comes tomorrow. He'll give me three taels for the meat. It's a sin to kill a good cow, but I can't afford to feed a cripple."
Lin Chen walked to the fence. He didn't ask permission; he climbed over.
"Careful!" Old Liu warned. "She's in pain. She kicks."
Lin Chen moved slowly, projecting the calmness he had learned from handling the goats. He approached the cow from the front, letting her smell his hand. The cow blew warm air into his palm, her eyes large and brown, filled with a gentle resignation.
"Hello, girl," Lin Chen whispered. He ran his hand along her flank. She flinched, her muscles twitching.
*System, analyze.*
**[Target: Local Yellow Cow (Female).]
[Age: 6 years (Prime).]
[Status: Left hind hip joint dislocation (Chronic). Muscle atrophy in rear leg. Malnourished.]
[Genetic Potential: Average. High maternal traits.]
[Treatment Feasibility: Difficult (80% success rate with correct manipulation). Requires rehabilitation.]**
"She's not broken," Lin Chen said loudly, stepping back. "She's just... put together wrong."
Old Liu stared at him. "What? The bone-setter said the joint is ruined. Arthritis set in."
"The joint is fine," Lin Chen lied smoothly—he didn't know if it was fine, but the system did. "The muscles seized up around the dislocation, locking it in place. If we relax the muscles and force it back... she walks."
"You're a scholar," Old Liu said suspiciously. "What do you know of bones?"
"I know that if you sell her to the butcher, you get three taels," Lin Chen said, locking eyes with the man. "Sell her to me. I'll give you four taels. If she dies under my care, you keep the money. If she walks... you sell me her first calf for market price."
Old Liu hesitated. Four taels was a third more than the butcher offered. It was enough to buy a young calf in the spring.
"You're crazy," Old Liu muttered. "But... four taels is four taels. Fine. But you take her now. I don't want to watch."
"I need help moving her," Lin Chen said. "And I need a cart. We can't walk her back."
***
Getting the cow onto the cart was a nightmare. The animal was heavy, terrified, and in pain. It took Zhao Hu, Old Liu, and two neighbors from the village nearly an hour to heave the lowing beast onto the flatbed of the cart. They used ramps and ropes, the men slipping in the mud, cursing the rain and the cold.
Villagers gathered, watching the spectacle.
"Look at that! Young Master Lin is collecting trash again!"
"First sick sheep, now a cripple cow. Is he starting a zoo for the disabled?"
"He's burning through the Magistrate's charity money. He'll be begging on the streets by New Year."
The whispers were like thorns, but Lin Chen stood by the cart, his face impassive. He handed the four taels of silver to Old Liu.
"Thank you, Uncle Liu. When she walks, I'll send word."
Old Liu took the money, his hand trembling slightly. He looked at the cow one last time, sadness in his eyes, then turned away.
The journey back to the ranch was slow. Old Grey the donkey pulled the cart, but the weight was immense. Lin Mu walked beside the cow, stroking her head to keep her calm.
When they finally arrived, the sun was setting, painting the snow in bloody hues of orange.
"Get the chute," Lin Chen ordered Zhao Hu.
They had built a simple wooden chute earlier that week—a narrow passage made of logs, designed to hold an animal still. It was intended for sheep, but the cow barely fit.
They maneuvered the cow into the chute. She was panicked, her breathing heavy, white foam flying from her mouth.
"Tie her head," Lin Chen said. "Tight. She can't move when I do this."
Zhao Hu secured the ropes. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to fix her," Lin Chen said. He took off his outer robe, leaving only his thin shirt. The cold bit at his skin, but he needed freedom of movement.
He climbed into the chute, standing behind the cow. It was a dangerous position. A single kick could shatter his ribs.
"Mu'er, get the bottle of strong liquor we bought. And the ginger paste."
Lin Mu ran to the hut and returned with a clay jar of cheap, fiery spirit. Lin Chen took a swig, the liquid burning his throat, then poured the rest over the cow's hip joint to clean it and stimulate the skin.
"Now, Zhao Hu. I need you to push. Hard. On her rump. Don't let her move forward."
"I'll push her through the wall if you want," Zhao Hu said, bracing his shoulder against the cow's massive hindquarters.
Lin Chen took a deep breath. He placed his hands on the cow's hip. He could feel the heat radiating from the inflamed joint. He closed his eyes, visualizing the anatomy.
*System: Initiate Guidance Protocol.*
A wireframe schematic of the cow's skeleton flashed in his mind. The femoral head was locked outside the acetabulum. He needed to rotate, lift, and push.
"On my count," Lin Chen said. "Three... Two..."
He didn't say three. He jerked his hands, applying a sudden, sharp torsion while simultaneously lifting the leg.
"Now, Zhao Hu! PUSH!"
Zhao Hu roared, driving his weight forward. The cow bellowed, a sound of pure shock and pain.
Lin Chen felt a sickening grinding sensation, followed by a distinct, hollow *POP*.
The cow jerked violently, nearly knocking Lin Chen over. Then, suddenly, the animal went still. The tension in the muscles vanished.
Silence fell over the ranch.
Lin Chen scrambled out of the chute, panting, his arms trembling from the exertion. He landed in the mud.
"Did it work?" Lin Mu asked, his voice trembling.
"Untie her," Lin Chen gasped. "Slowly."
Zhao Hu loosened the ropes. The cow stood there for a moment, trembling. Then, she shifted her weight.
She put her right hind hoof on the ground.
She flinched, lifting it immediately.
"It hurts," Lin Chen said, wiping mud from his face. "But the joint is back. She can put weight on it."
The cow took a hesitant step. Then another. She limped, yes, but she wasn't holding the leg up anymore. She walked out of the chute, sniffing the ground, looking for grass.
Zhao Hu stared, his mouth slightly open. "By the heavens... you actually did it."
"She needs rest," Lin Chen said, shivering as the adrenaline faded. "Warm mash tonight. And we need to massage the leg every four hours to get the blood flowing. The muscles are weak. It will take months to plow again. But she will walk."
He stood up, his body aching, his hands covered in mud and cow hair.
"That," Zhao Hu said, looking at Lin Chen with a new, terrifying respect, "was not scholar's work. That was a vet's work. A butcher's work."
"It's rancher's work," Lin Chen corrected, limping towards the hut. "Come on. Let's eat. I'm starving."
***
That night, they didn't just eat gruel.
Lin Chen had bought a few eggs and some flour from the village. He mixed the flour with water, kneading it into a rough dough. He flattened it into discs and cooked them on the hot iron plate over the brazier.
"Flatbread," Lin Mu said, tearing off a piece. It was chewy and slightly burnt, but it smelled like heaven.
Zhao Hu had managed to catch a pheasant in a snare earlier that morning. It was now roasting over the fire, the skin crackling and dripping fat.
They sat around the fire, the smell of roasting meat filling the small hut. Outside, the cow was settled in the shed, munching on a pile of clean hay.
Lin Chen leaned back against the wall, a flatbread in one hand and a cup of hot water in the other. He watched the two people—no, the two partners—across from him.
Zhao Hu tore into the pheasant leg with his teeth, grease running down his chin. He wasn't a grumpy bodyguard anymore; he was a foreman. Lin Mu was reading his book by the light of the fire, pausing only to take bites of bread.
"Zhao Hu," Lin Chen said suddenly.
The man looked up. "Hmm?"
"The cow... when she heals, she needs to be bred. But not to a local bull."
Zhao Hu chewed slowly. "There's a good bull in the next village. Belongs to the Wangs."
"No," Lin Chen said. "I want a different kind. I want to find a bull that looks... different. Wilder. Maybe from the deep mountains. Have you seen any?"
Zhao Hu frowned, thinking. "In the army, we traveled far north once. I saw cattle the barbarians kept. Big beasts. Humps on their shoulders. Like camels. Mean tempers."
**[System Alert: Brahman Traits Detected.]**
Lin Chen's eyes flashed. "Humps? Shoulder humps?"
"Aye. Ugly things. But they could walk for days without water. The soldiers said they were demon-cows."
"If you see a trader with those," Lin Chen said quietly, "let me know. I don't want the local pretty bulls. I want the ugly, strong ones."
He looked into the fire, the flames dancing in his eyes.
"We are not building a normal farm, Zhao Hu. We are building a fortress of meat. And for that, we need monsters."
Zhao Hu chuckled, raising a chicken bone in a toast. "To monsters, then. And to the crazy scholar who popped a cow's hip back in place."
Lin Mu looked up from his book, confused. "Brother, can I name the cow?"
"Sure."
"I'll call her 'Hope'."
Lin Chen smiled. "Hope. Good name. Now eat your bread. Tomorrow, we build a proper barn door. And we practice the lasso again. I missed a stump today."
"That's because you throw like a girl," Zhao Hu quipped.
"And you dig holes like an old man," Lin Chen retorted.
The laughter in the hut was warm, pushing back the winter chill. They had a cow. They had a plan. And slowly, piece by piece, the ranch was becoming a home.