The silver frost on the grass the morning after their return from the high meadows felt like a warning. It glittered, beautiful and cold, a reminder of the season's turn and the hard edge of imperial reality. In fourteen days, Clerk Gao would return, not as an observing bureaucrat, but as a collector. The Lin family ledger, etched in Lin Yan's mind and on a scrap of parchment, held two sums: the standard autumn tax, and the supplemental northern garrison levy. Together, they formed a mountain of silver they had to summit.
The alpine idyll was over. The ranch snapped into a focused, economic siege.
Every asset was assessed. The remaining store of branded LR hay was counted—thirty bales. "We sell twenty," Lin Yan decreed. "At a premium, for winter scarcity. We keep ten for our own animals, no less." The eggs from the five original hens and the five new system-provided "improved" hens (which had quietly integrated months prior, laying with astounding reliability) were collected not in ones and twos, but in steady dozens. The "medicinal" label was now a trusted mark in Yellow Creek; Merchant Huang's weekly order was a fixed, reassuring line of copper income.
Zhao He's integration was swift and practical. He took over the care of Flint, the scarred grey horse, with a taciturn expertise that spoke of a deep, unspoken kinship with wounded things. Under his hands, Flint's hoof cracks healed properly, his muscle tone improved, and a spark of his latent spirit returned. Zhao He also examined the new cart. With a few modifications to the harness and axle, he made it pull smoother, requiring less effort from man or future beast.
"A soldier moves on his stomach, and his supplies on good wheels," was all he said, but the improvement was undeniable.
His true value, however, emerged in the realm of security. Old Chen's passive aggression had shifted after their mountain return. The water trick had failed. The bureaucratic threat had been parried. Now, the threat became physical, though still deniable.
One evening, Lin Xiao came running from the pasture edge, face pale. "The fence on the north side… it's cut! Not broken, cut with a knife!"
Lin Yan and Zhao He went to look. The sturdy railing was severed cleanly between two posts, a section just wide enough for a determined cow—or a clever thief—to exploit. It was in a secluded spot, hidden from the hut by a rise.
Zhao He knelt, examining the cut, then the ground. "One man. Leather-soled shoes, worn on the outside edge. He stood here for a time, watching." He pointed to faint depressions in the grass. "He wasn't in a hurry. He wanted to see if they'd wander out, or if we'd notice."
It was a test. A probe of their vigilance.
"Do we repair it and say nothing?" Lin Yan asked, anger a cold coil in his gut.
Zhao He shook his head. "We repair it with something that says we know, and we are ready." That night, under Zhao He's direction, they did more than replace the rail. They set up a simple, almost invisible alarm—a series of dried, brittle branches stacked in a seemingly random but deliberate way along the inside of the fence line. Anyone climbing over or pushing through would create a loud crackling cascade.
They also began a watch schedule. Lin Tie and Zhao He took turns, not patrolling obviously, but being present, visible at odd hours. Lin Yan saw Zhao He, on his watch, simply sitting in the shadow of the cattle shelter, whittling a piece of wood with a knife that looked as much a weapon as a tool. The message was sent: the ranch was no longer a soft target.
The financial push was relentless. Lin Yan and Lin Zhu made two extra trips to Yellow Creek, selling hay and eggs directly to the courier station's second-in-command, who was happy to bypass Huang for a slight discount. The silver and copper accumulated. Lin Yan's system points, earned from daily management and small innovations, were spent not on expansion, but on 'Basic Metallurgy for Tools' (50 points) and 'Advanced Feed Formulation' (40 points). The first allowed Lin Zhu to forge simpler, harder-wearing tools in their own fire; the second let them stretch their grain further by creating perfectly balanced nutritional cakes from hay dust, crushed bone, and wild seeds.
The family moved with a quiet, determined synergy. Wang Shi and the girls worked late into the night, weaving extra baskets from river reeds to sell. Lin Dahu, his hands no longer suited to heavy labor, took over the meticulous record-keeping and the constant, soothing supervision of the animals, his presence a stable calm in the storm of activity.
Ten days before the deadline, they staged a private count. They spread their wealth on the kitchen table: a small pile of silver fen and a larger mound of copper coins. They counted silently, twice.
It was enough. Just. With a margin of maybe ten copper coins.
A collective, shuddering breath of relief filled the room. They had done it. They had generated, from chickens and grass and willpower, the imperial ransom.
"We pay it," Lin Dahu said, his voice thick. "And we are free. Until the next time."
"This time, we paid with hay and eggs," Lin Yan said, looking at the silver. "Next time, we pay with beef, or a weaned calf. The burden gets lighter because we get stronger."
The night before Clerk Gao's arrival, the probe came again. A figure, cloaked in darkness, approached the north fence. He found the repaired rail, stronger than before. He hesitated, then apparently decided to try elsewhere. As he moved along the fence line, his foot caught in one of Zhao He's hidden branch piles.
The CRACK-SNAP-RUSTLE in the silent night was explosive.
From the shadows, Zhao He's voice rang out, flat and carrying. "The next sound you hear will be an arrow leaving the string. Walk away. Now."
There was a frantic scuffle, and the sound of someone running clumsily into the night. No one in the hut had even needed to wake up. The threat had been neutralized at the perimeter. Lin Yan, watching from the doorway, felt a surge of fierce gratitude for the grim, competent man standing guard over their dream.
The day of reckoning dawned clear and cold. Clerk Gao arrived on a thin horse, accompanied by two bored-looking county guards. He set up a small table in the village square. One by one, the households of Willow Creek came forward, their faces etched with resignation or despair. Old Chen paid with a heavy bag of grain, his transaction smooth and familiar.
Then it was the Lin family's turn. Lin Dahu, Lin Yan, and Lin Zhu approached. They carried no grain, no struggling poultry. Lin Dahu placed a leather pouch on the table. It clinked with a solid, metallic sound.
Clerk Gao opened it. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the silver fen, the exact amount required for both taxes. He counted them meticulously, bit one, then nodded. He made a mark in his ledger with a flourish.
"The Lin household. Tax and supplemental levy… paid in full." He announced it loudly enough for the gathered villagers to hear. A murmur rippled through the crowd. Paid in silver. Not in kind, not in labor, not in promises. In hard currency.
Old Chen, standing to the side, looked as if he had swallowed a stone. His strategy of pressure had not broken them; it had forged them into something capable of this.
Clerk Gao looked up at Lin Yan. "Your 'demonstration plot' seems to be demonstrating fiscal responsibility as well. I will note it in my report. Continue your… methods." There was a begrudging respect in his tone. The Empire admired efficiency, even in those it taxed.
As they walked back to their ranch, the weight that had pressed on them for months was gone. The air felt lighter. Lin Xiao whooped and ran ahead. Wang Shi, waiting at the gate, had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling.
That evening, they ate a simple meal, but it tasted of triumph. Afterward, they gathered outside as the stars emerged, sharp and cold. The herd was a dark, peaceful mass in the pasture. The coop was quiet. The stored hay smelled sweet in the shed.
Zhao He stood slightly apart, as was his habit. Lin Yan brought him a cup of hot barley tea. "You stood guard. Thank you."
Zhao He accepted the cup, nodding. "A man guards what gives him purpose. This…" he gestured with his chin at the ranch, the family, "…has purpose."
Lin Yan followed his gaze. He saw not just a farm, but a fortress they had built together. They had met the taxman's toll and paid it without breaking. They had faced down a petty tyrant and his knives in the night. They had climbed mountains and brought back strength.
The system screen glowed softly in his mind, a summary of their season.
[Major Crisis Resolved: Imperial Tax Obligation Met.]
[External Threat Neutralized: Sabotage attempt deflected. Perimeter security established.]
[Financial Milestone: Successfully generated significant silver income from agricultural production.]
[Personnel Loyalty: Zhao He – Solidified. Now considered part of the 'Ranch Core.']
[New Mission Unlocked: 'Beyond Subsistence.' Expand ranch operations to generate consistent surplus for reinvestment and luxury.]
They were beyond survival. The tax was paid. The herd was growing. The ranch stood secure.
As Lin Yan looked at the faces of his family, lit by the rising moon, and at the solitary, steadfast figure of Zhao He, he knew the hardest winter was behind them. They had paid the Empire's price. Now, they could truly begin to build their own kingdom, one blade of grass, one healthy calf, one silent, watchful night at a time.