The three silver fen had worked a quiet magic. In the days that followed the corvée commutation, the Lin family moved through Willow Creek with a new, unspoken stature. They were no longer just the poorest family on the brink of collapse. They were the family who had paid Old Chen in full, who had dealt directly with a Yellow Creek merchant, and who had turned a cursed slope into a living patch of hope. Villagers who had previously offered only pitying glances now nodded with cautious respect, or stopped to ask Wang Shi about her herbal methods, or offered Lin Dahu a share of their tobacco.
Inside the Lin compound, the pace of work was relentless, but it was no longer the desperate scramble of survival. It was the deliberate, forward-driving momentum of builders.
The egg mission was now a formality. With five healthy hens in a perfect environment, hitting fifty eggs was a matter of routine collection. Lin Yan's focus had shifted entirely to the pasture and what it meant. He spent his 50 system points on two crucial things: 'Basic Bovine Husbandry' knowledge (20 points) and another, larger batch of 'Hardy Forage Grass Seed' (30 points) to expand the green plot from one mu to three.
The bovine knowledge was a quiet revolution in his mind. It wasn't just about feeding and watering; it was about pasture rotation, about understanding herd behavior, about the signs of health and illness in a ruminant. It was the foundational text for the next chapter of their story.
The new grass seed was sown with ceremony. The entire family formed a line across the slope, using hoes to scratch the hard soil. Lin Yan walked behind them, broadcasting the precious seed with a sweeping arm, like a priest scattering blessings. Lin Xiao followed, singing their "growing song," his voice now joined by Lin Xiaolian's sweeter harmony. It was no longer a superstition; it was a tradition.
As they worked, Lin Yan explained the plan. "The grass here will be ready for light grazing in six weeks. We need animals by then. Not just any animal. The right foundation."
That evening, after a supper where the yam and millet porridge was now consistently thick, they held a true family council. The last of the evening light glowed through the open door, illuminating their earnest faces.
"We have the Merchant Huang's egg money coming in weekly," Lin Zhu began, his fingers tracing imaginary accounts on the table. "After buying our own grain and setting aside a bit, we can save maybe fifteen coppers a week. In six weeks, that's ninety coppers. Almost a silver tael."
"Enough for a good young ox, or two scrub calves," Lin Tie rumbled. His freedom, bought with silver, now directly fed the dream of the draft power that would lift them higher.
"An ox is practical," Lin Dahu agreed. "It can plough what we cannot. It can pull a cart to market."
But Lin Yan shook his head gently. He was thinking of the system's categories, of the future it hinted at. "An ox is a tool. A good one. But we are not just farmers anymore. We are ranchers." He used the foreign word, but the meaning was clear: livestock breeders. "We should think of breeding stock. A young bull and two heifers. We start a herd. The first calf born on our grass will be worth more than the labour of an ox."
It was a longer-term, riskier vision. It meant more mouths to feed with no immediate return. The family digested this. Wang Shi spoke, her voice practical. "A bull is more expensive. And more dangerous. And what do we feed them for the six weeks until the grass is ready? Our grain is for the hens and ourselves."
"We buy hay," Lin Yan said. "With the first few weeks of egg money. We stack it high. We show the animals, and anyone who sees, that we are prepared. That we are serious."
The word "hay" was a commitment. It was a commodity purchase, a statement of intent beyond subsistence.
The council stretched late into the night. Lin Yan's vision—of a breeding herd, of beef that could one day rival the "Blackcloud" or "Southern Heatwalker" breeds in his system—was compelling but daunting. Lin Dahu and Lin Tie's pragmatism pulled towards the security of an ox. In the end, a compromise, brokered by Lin Zhu's calculating mind, was struck.
"We use the first sixty coppers we save," he proposed. "We buy one young, promising bull calf. A foundation sire. We prove we can raise it, that our grass can sustain it. Next year, with more pasture and more savings, we buy heifers. An ox can wait. A foundation sire cannot."
It was a decision that prioritized legacy over immediate utility. It felt momentous. The family agreed.
The following week, the rhythm of their lives deepened. Lin Yan, armed with his new husbandry knowledge, began constructing a simple, open-sided shelter on the edge of the green plot—a lean-to for future cattle, oriented to block the prevailing wind. Lin Zhu improved the design, adding a proper feed trough and a salt lick holder carved from a log.
Lin Xiaohua returned from her visit to the Li family in the next village, her quiet eyes alight with information. "Farmer Li says the tax clerk is a man named Clerk Gao. He is… particular. He prefers silver, but he will accept grain at a ten percent discount against the market rate. He does not like 'complicated' payments like livestock or eggs. He wants things simple, countable." She also reported, her voice dropping, "Old Chen is known to lend silver for tax payments at a ruinous rate after harvest, securing mortgages on land."
It was vital intelligence. They needed silver, not just eggs. Their egg money was in copper. They would need to convert it.
The solution came from an unexpected quarter. Two days later, a well-dressed servant arrived at their gate. He was from the household of Scholar Zhang, Lin Xiaolian's betrothed. He bore a polite letter and a gift: a bolt of fine, blue cotton cloth for the wedding preparations, and a delicate silver hairpin for Xiaolian herself.
The family was stunned. The gift was generous, a signal of the Zhang family's satisfaction with the match. But to Lin Yan, the hairpin was something else: it was silver. Refined, worked, but silver nonetheless.
An idea, audacious and delicate, took root. He discussed it with his parents and Xiaolian that evening, after the servant had left.
"The hairpin is a betrothal gift. It is Xiaolian's honor," Wang Shi said firmly, though her eyes were troubled. She understood the necessity warring with propriety.
"I know, Mother," Lin Yan said. "We would not sell it. But… could it be used as collateral? To show Merchant Huang we have silver-quality assets? To secure a larger agreement, perhaps for an advance on hay, or even towards the bull calf? It remains ours—Xiaolian's—but its existence changes our credit."
It was a financial instrument. Using a betrothal gift as collateral was risky, potentially offensive. But they were not dealing with a traditional moneylender; they were dealing with Huang, a pragmatist.
Xiaolian, to everyone's surprise, spoke up. Her usual liveliness was tempered with a new gravity. "If the hairpin can help secure our family's future—the future I will one day leave to join—then it is serving its purpose better than in my hair. But," she added, looking at Lin Yan, "you must be sure. If we lose it…"
"We won't," Lin Yan promised, his voice low. "It's not for a loan. It's for a show of faith. To get better terms."
The next egg delivery day, Lin Yan and Lin Tie went to Yellow Creek. After the eggs were counted and the copper paid, Lin Yan requested a word with Master Huang. In the tidy office, he laid out their plan: the expanded pasture, the shelter under construction, the target of a foundation sire in six weeks.
Huang listened, then asked the blunt question. "And the silver? A good bull calf, even young, will cost at least one and a half taels. You have copper."
"We have a steady copper income," Lin Yan corrected. "And we have this." He carefully unwrapped the blue cloth, revealing the delicate silver hairpin inside. It gleamed in the office light. "A family heirloom. We do not wish to sell it. But its value is real. We propose this: in six weeks, we bring you the saved copper, and this as a pledge of our commitment. You provide the extra silver needed to purchase a quality bull calf from a source you trust. We repay you from the proceeds of our first sale of hay, or the first calf from the herd, with moderate interest. The hairpin returns to us upon repayment."
He held his breath. It was a bigger ask—a partnership extending into livestock financing.
Huang picked up the hairpin, examined the workmanship. It was worth perhaps half a tael. Not a fortune, but significant. He looked from the pin to Lin Yan. "You are betting your sister's honor on a bull."
"I am betting our family's future on a system that works," Lin Yan replied, meeting his gaze. "The eggs are proof. The grass is proof. We need the foundation animal to complete the cycle."
Huang was silent for a long time. Finally, he placed the hairpin back on the cloth. "Keep it. For now. In six weeks, bring me your copper and a report on your pasture. If the grass is knee-high and healthy, we will talk. I may know a breeder in the northern prefecture who has sturdy stock. No promises. But… I am interested."
It was not a yes, but it was a door left wide open. It was trust, measured in potential grass height.
They returned home, the hairpin safe, the future shimmering with possibility. That night, a spring thunderstorm rolled over the hills. The family gathered in the hut, listening to the rain drum on the thatch—a sweet, soaking rain for their new grass.
Lin Yan stood in the doorway, watching the lightning illuminate the slope. In each flash, the three mu of young grass shone a brilliant, surreal green against the dark. The scent of wet earth and growing things filled the air.
Beside him, Lin Xiao whispered, "The grass is drinking, Second Brother."
"Yes," Lin Yan said, a profound contentment settling over him. The mission in his mind chimed softly.
[Mission Complete: Sustain Your Family. 50/50 Eggs.]
[Rewards: 100 Points. 'Basic Poultry Care' Manual (Integrated). Improved Chicken Breed (Hens x5) – Available for claim.]
[New Mission Unlocked: 'The Herd's Foundation.' Acquire and successfully integrate first bovine livestock onto improved pasture.]
He didn't claim the new hens yet. They would come in time. He had 100 points. He watched the rain, feeling the foundations of their new life sink deeper into the wet, willing earth.
They had paid their debts. They had a patron. They had a plan. And on the hill, drinking in the life-giving storm, was the green, green proof that their dream was no longer just a dream. It was a field, growing taller every day. The quiet thunder in the distance sounded not like a threat, but like an applause.