The morning mist clung to the ground like a shroud, but Li Wei was already awake, crouched in the mud behind the tool shed.
In his hands, he held a small clay bowl filled with a pungent, brown sludge. He had spent the last hour crushing garlic cloves, drying them slightly over the fire, and mixing them with warm water and a pinch of salt. To a modern nose, it smelled like a failed pasta sauce. To a cow with a respiratory infection, it was medicine.
"Come on, Number One," Li Wei coaxed, using the temporary name he'd assigned the heifer in his mind. "Open up."
The cow, however, was having none of it. She turned her large head away, her dull eyes rolling back in protest. She smelled the sharp tang of the garlic and clamped her mouth shut.
"You're making this difficult," Li Wei sighed. He was exhausted. The incubator required turning every four hours, and the worry over the money he had spent was gnawing a hole in his stomach.
"Grab her nose," a gravelly voice instructed.
Li Wei looked up. Qin Hu was limping over, carrying a rough hemp rope. He didn't wait for Li Wei to argue. The old soldier moved with surprising speed. He stepped up to the cow's side, placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, and then, with a practiced motion, pinched her nostrils shut with his other hand.
The cow panicked slightly, tossing her head, but Qin Hu held firm.
"She needs to breathe," Qin Hu said calmly. "She'll open her mouth."
Sure enough, after a few seconds of struggling, the cow's jaw dropped open to gasp for air.
"Now," Qin Hu commanded.
Li Wei didn't hesitate. He poured the garlic mixture into the side of her mouth, rubbing her throat to encourage swallowing. She coughed, spluttering half of it back onto Li Wei's tunic, but most of it went down.
"Good enough," Li Wei wiped his face, grimacing at the smell. "Thank you, Qin Hu."
"Horses in the army were worse," Qin Hu said, releasing the cow. He patted her flank roughly. "They bite. This one just sulks."
The cow glared at them with a look of profound betrayal but seemed to breathe a little easier as the warmth of the water hit her stomach.
"Her temperature is down slightly this morning," Li Wei said, checking the System interface only he could see. **[Temp: 39.5°C (Improving).]** "The fever is breaking. If we can keep her eating, she'll make it."
"A sick animal is a money pit," Father Li Dazhong's voice cut through the morning air.
He stood at the edge of the clearing, holding a hoe. He looked at the cow, then at the mess of garlic and mud, then at Li Wei. His face was unreadable.
"You didn't sleep in the house last night," Dazhong observed.
"I was checking the eggs," Li Wei said, standing up and stretching his back. "And the cow."
"The eggs," Dazhong sighed. He walked over, kicking a loose stone. "Your mother is worried. You look thin, Wei'er. You have dark circles under your eyes. You're spending money we don't have on a beast that might die, and you're neglecting the family fields."
Li Wei looked at his father. The man wasn't angry; he was terrified. In this world, a mistake wasn't a learning opportunity; it was a death sentence.
"Father," Li Wei said seriously. "The fields will grow wheat. But wheat is cheap. A healthy cow is worth three years of wheat harvests. If I can nurse her back to health, she can plow the fields faster than two men. She can give birth. She creates value every day she lives."
"And if she dies?"
"Then we eat steak," Li Wei said, using a foreign term he quickly corrected. "We eat beef. And I will go to the town and work as a laborer to pay back the debt."
Dazhong stared at him for a long moment. He wanted to scold him, to drag him back to the safety of the wheat fields. But he saw the steel in Li Wei's spine. The boy had grown up overnight.
"Just… don't let the chickens starve," Dazhong muttered, turning away. "And come eat breakfast. Your mother made hot buns."
Li Wei let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. That was as close to an approval as he was going to get.
***
**The Candling**
Breakfast was quick. Li Wei had to get back to work.
He walked into the storage room where the incubator sat. It was time for a crucial step: *Candling*.
In the modern world, this was done with a bright electric light in a dark room. Here, Li Wei had to improvise. He had a small metal lantern with a focused flame, and he had covered the windows with thick blankets to create total darkness.
He picked up the first egg from the incubator.
"System, assist analysis."
He held the egg against the light, shielding it with his hand.
**[Scanning Embryo Development...]**
**[Result: Healthy. Veins visible. Heartbeat detected.]**
A smile broke across Li Wei's face. Inside the shell, backlit by the flickering flame, a network of tiny red veins spread out like a spiderweb. A small dark spot pulsed rhythmically—life.
He checked the others. Out of the twelve eggs he had set, ten were developing. Two were clear—infertile.
"Eighty-three percent success rate," Li Wei whispered. "That's good. That's very good."
He removed the two infertile eggs. They wouldn't rot and spoil the others, and they could be boiled and eaten later. Nothing went to waste.
He carefully placed the remaining ten back into the warmth of the rice husk bedding.
"Twelve days to go," he told the silent eggs. "Don't let me down."
***
**The Green Shoots**
By the seventh day after planting, the West Slope began to change.
It started as a faint haze of green across the dark brown earth. Li Wei had continued the grueling bucket brigade every morning and evening, carrying water up the hill until his shoulders were numb.
But today, the results were undeniable.
"Look!" Li Chen shouted, pointing at the terrace. "It's growing!"
The boy was supposed to be studying, but he had snuck up the hill during his break.
Li Wei knelt down. The Ryegrass sprouts were tiny, barely two centimeters tall, looking fragile and threadlike. But they were green. They were alive.
**[Ryegrass Field Status: Germination Complete.]**
**[Growth Rate: 15% faster than wild variants due to soil prep.]**
**[Next Phase: Tillering. Requires nitrogen input.]**
"It's soft," Chen said, running a small hand over the seedlings. "Like hair."
"Don't touch them too much," Li Wei smiled, ruffling his brother's actual hair. "They need to grow strong. This is the cow's future breakfast."
"So we water dirt… to grow grass… to feed the cow… to get money?" Chen asked, trying to wrap his head around the logic.
"Exactly," Li Wei said. "It's a cycle. We invest effort now, and nature pays us back with interest."
"Math is easier," Chen sighed. "But this smells better than the classroom."
Li Wei looked at his little brother. The boy was thin, but his eyes were bright. He was wearing a clean tunic today—one of the few the family had. Li Wei had used some of the egg money to buy a cheap bar of lye soap, insisting the family wash their clothes more often. Hygiene prevented disease, in both humans and animals.
"Go back to your books, Chen," Li Wei said gently. "When this grass is waist high, I'll let you help me mow it. Deal?"
"Deal!" The boy ran off down the hill, clutching his book bag.
***
**A Visitor and a Brush**
That afternoon, Li Wei focused on the cow. The System indicated she was stable, but she was still weak. Her coat was matted with mud and dried dung from her neglect.
"She needs to be clean," Li Wei told Qin Hu. "Parasites and dirt hide in the fur. It makes them sick."
He had found an old, stiff brush used for scrubbing laundry. It was rough, but it would work.
He approached the cow slowly. He didn't want to spook her. In his mind, he recalled the cowboy videos he had watched. Low voice. No sudden moves. Establish dominance but offer comfort.
"Easy, girl," Li Wei murmured. He started at her shoulder, running the brush in long, firm strokes.
At first, she flinched, twitching her skin as if a fly had landed. But as he continued, the repetitive motion began to soothe her. The scratching relieved an itch she hadn't been able to reach.
Her eyelids drooped. She leaned slightly into the brush.
"There you go," Li Wei whispered, finding a rhythm. *Scritch, scratch, scritch, scratch.*
Qin Hu watched from the fence, chewing on a piece of straw. "You talk to it like it's a person."
"She understands tone," Li Wei said, moving to her neck. "Fear, anger, calm. She doesn't need words to know I'm helping."
He worked his way down her flank. Underneath the layers of caked mud, he saw the reddish-brown coat begin to shine through. She was still thin, her spine protruding sharply, but she wasn't the skeleton she was three days ago.
"She's going to need a name," Qin Hu noted.
Li Wei paused. "I was thinking… 'Hope'. Because that's what she cost us."
"Hope is too soft," Qin Hu grunted. "Soldiers don't fight for hope. They fight for home. Call her 'An' (Peace)."
"An," Li Wei tested the word. It was simple. Solid. "Li An. Okay. Welcome to the family, An."
The cow let out a low huff, seemingly accepting the name.
As he brushed her, Li Wei noticed something. The brush was clearing away dead skin and hair, stimulating blood flow. The System chimed in.
**[Livestock Care Action: Grooming.]**
**[Effect: Blood circulation increased. Stress reduced. Coat quality improving.]**
**[Tip: Regular grooming reduces external parasites by 40%.]**
It was a small thing. Just brushing a cow. But as he stood there in the afternoon sun, the smell of garlic and earth in his nose, Li Wei felt a profound sense of peace.
He wasn't an office worker anymore. He wasn't staring at a screen. He was touching a living creature, improving its life with his own two hands.
This was the ranch life. Dirty, smelly, exhausting.
And he loved it.
***
**The Night Shift**
The peace was broken that night.
Li Wei was asleep in the storage room, curled up next to the incubator to conserve body heat and keep the temperature stable.
Suddenly, the chickens in the coop outside erupted into a frenzy of squawking and flapping.
Li Wei's eyes snapped open. The silence of the night had been shattered.
"Thief!" he thought instantly.
He grabbed the wooden staff he kept by the door and rushed outside.
"Qin Hu!"
He heard the sound of struggle from the backyard.
Li Wei ran around the corner of the house. In the moonlight, he saw a dark figure scrambling over the back fence. A trap he and Qin Hu had set—a simple trip wire of rope—had been triggered.
Qin Hu was already there. He had been sleeping on a mat near the cow shed (refusing the main house). He had tackled the intruder just as they tried to snatch one of the hens.
"Stay down!" Qin Hu barked, his knee pressing into the intruder's back. He twisted the man's arm behind his back with brutal efficiency.
Li Wei ran up, holding the lantern high.
The intruder was a teenager—maybe fifteen or sixteen. He was filthy, wearing rags even worse than the Li family's. He was sobbing, his face pressed into the dirt.
"Please! Please don't kill me!" the boy cried. "I was hungry! I just wanted a chicken!"
Li Wei lowered the lantern. He looked at the boy's gaunt face. It was a face he recognized. It was the face of a refugee, or maybe an orphan from a neighboring village that had fallen on hard times.
Qin Hu looked at Li Wei, awaiting the order. In this era, thieves were often beaten or even killed by villagers protecting their meager assets.
"He's just a kid," Li Wei said, his voice hard but controlled. He looked at the boy. "You picked the wrong house, kid. We don't have food to spare either."
"I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" the boy wailed.
Li Wei looked at the chickens, huddled in the corner of the coop, terrified. He looked at Qin Hu, whose leg was trembling from the exertion of the tackle.
"Let him up," Li Wei said.
Qin Hu hesitated, then released the boy's arm and stepped back, standing over him like a sentinel.
The boy scrambled to his knees, shaking.
"Are you from Willow Village?" Li Wei asked.
"No… from River Village," the boy stammered. "My parents… the flood took them. I have nothing."
A refugee. A stray.
Li Wei remembered how Qin Hu had looked when he found him. A stray dog, biting out of fear.
The ranch needed hands. Strong, desperate hands.
"What's your name?" Li Wei asked.
"Da… Da Niu (Big Ox)," the boy sniffed.
"Da Niu," Li Wei repeated. "You tried to steal my chicken. That's worth a beating."
The boy flinched.
"However," Li Wei continued, "I'm building a fence tomorrow. It's heavy work. Moving rocks. Digging post holes. I can't pay you much. Just two meals a day. Porridge. And a place to sleep in the shed with the chickens."
The boy looked up, shocked. "You… you want me to work?"
"I want you to pay for the chicken you scared half to death," Li Wei said sternly. "If you work hard, you eat. If you steal again, Qin Hu breaks your arm. Understand?"
Qin Hu cracked his knuckles menacingly for effect.
Da Niu nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. "I'll work! I'll work hard! I swear!"
"Good," Li Wei nodded. "Go sleep in the shed. We start at dawn."
He turned to Qin Hu. "Tie him up for tonight. Just in case. Untie him in the morning."
Qin Hu gave a rare, toothy grin. "Smart, Boss. Very smart."
Li Wei walked back inside. His heart was pounding. He had just hired his second employee. A thief, a refugee, and a child.
The payroll was growing. The expenses were growing.
*The pressure is mounting,* he thought, checking the incubator temperature one last time. *But so is the family.*
He lay back down on the mat, staring at the ceiling.
**[System Update: Employee count 2.]**
**[Ranch Expansion: Accelerated.]**
"Growth," Li Wei whispered, closing his eyes. "Nothing stops growth."