The New Year was approaching. In the Great Liang Dynasty, this was the most significant time of the year—a season for settling debts, summing up the year's gains and losses, and family reunions.
For the Westland Ranch, it was a season of survival.
The snow had piled up waist-high in some drifts, sealing the ranch off from the main road. But inside the bamboo shelter, a strange, savory aroma hung in the air. It wasn't the smell of manure or damp hay. It was the smell of fermentation—rich, yeasty, and warm.
"Easy, don't push," Li Wei shouted over the lowing of the herd.
He stood by the feeding trough, pouring a thick, grey-brown sludge from a wooden bucket. It was the "swill" collected from the city—a mixture of leftover buns, vegetable stalks, and the dregs of the brewing vats from *The Jade Cup*.
To a civilized person, it looked like slop. To the cattle, it was a delicacy.
The cows shoved their heads into the troughs, licking up the mash with frantic enthusiasm. The heat generated by the fermentation warmed their bellies, and the high carbohydrate content from the leftover rice and buns put a layer of fat on their bones that dried grass never could.
"Look at the ribs on Number Four," Chen Hu noted, leaning on his shovel. He pointed to a cow that had arrived looking like a skeleton. Now, its spine was padded with muscle. "They are filling out. Even the runt is eating well."
Li Wei looked at 'Little Treasure', the dwarf heifer. She stood on her stubby legs, head deep in the trough, her coat already shedding its dullness for a soft, glossy brown. The system's genetic prediction was proving accurate; her body was processing the energy differently than the others, storing it internally rather than growing tall.
"She's a furnace," Li Wei said. "Keep her fed. She's our golden egg."
Just then, the sound of sleigh bells cut through the wind.
Li Wei looked up. A small procession was making its way up the snow-covered path. Two guards on horseback, followed by a sleek, enclosed sleigh.
"The Magistrate's crest," Li Sheng said, wiping his hands on his apron. "Is it Father?"
"No," Li Wei squinted. "The curtains are drawn tight. It's the Mistress."
Zhao Qingyu had come for the winter audit.
***
Li Wei met the sleigh at the gate. He didn't bow low; he simply nodded, tipping the brim of his wolf-pelt hat. He looked like a bandit lord greeting a visiting dignitary.
The curtain parted, and Qingyu stepped out, wrapped in a thick red cloak lined with white fox fur. She looked like a splash of blood against the white snow—elegant, pristine, and completely out of place in the mud and manure of the ranch.
"Husband," she said, her breath puffing in the air. "I am here to inspect the assets. The New Year accounts must be settled."
"Welcome to the Westland," Li Wei said, gesturing to the open gate. "Mind your step. The mud is deep, and the cows have been... enthusiastic."
Qingyu wrinkled her nose at the smell of the fermented swill. "What is that odor? It smells like a distillery mixed with a cesspool."
"That is the smell of profit," Li Wei said unapologetically. "We feed them city waste. It costs pennies and keeps them fat. Come, I'll show you the books."
He led her into the shelter. The contrast was jarring. Outside, the wind howled; inside, it was surprisingly warm, thanks to the deep bedding and the body heat of the animals.
Qingyu walked slowly through the aisle. She held a handkerchief to her nose, but her eyes were sharp, counting heads.
"Six cows," she counted. "You bought another?"
"A dwarf," Li Wei said, pointing to Little Treasure. "Cost me one tael."
Qingyu looked at the small, blocky animal. "It looks deformed. Why buy a cripple?"
"Because she isn't a plow ox," Li Wei said softly. He walked over and scratched Little Treasure behind the ears. The calf leaned into his touch. "She is the start of a new kind of livestock. One that doesn't work fields, but feeds people."
"Feeds people?" Qingyu scoffed. "She is too small to yield much meat."
"The quality of the meat matters more than the quantity," Li Wei said. He looked at her. "You'll see. In a year, I'll serve you a meal that will change your mind about beef."
Qingyu stared at him. His confidence was unnerving. In the city, men blustered and bragged, but Li Wei spoke with the calm certainty of a farmer predicting rain.
"Show me the books," she said, changing the subject.
They went to the small room at the back—the workshop. Li Wei pulled out a worn ledger. It was messy, filled with crude drawings of grass and calculations of feed ratios, but the numbers were clear.
**Starting Capital: 30 Taels.**
**Expenses:**
* Livestock: 17 Taels.
* Materials/Tools: 4 Taels.
* Feed/Winter Prep: 3 Taels.
* Labor (Chen Hu/Sheng): 1 Tael.
**Remaining Cash: 5 Taels.**
"You have spent twenty-five taels," Qingyu said, her finger tracing the column. "And you have five left. You have not made a single coin of profit. In fact, you have lost value, as the animals have consumed the feed."
"The herd is alive, Wife," Li Wei said, leaning back against the table. "In the eyes of a merchant, they are inventory. In my eyes, they are machinery. They are currently calibrating. The Black Bull alone is worth triple what I paid for him now that he is healthy. But we cannot sell him. He is the engine."
He pointed to the corner where a stack of tanned hides sat—wolf, deer, and wild goat, hunted by Chen Hu in the perimeter traps.
"We have killed seven wolves and three deer this winter," Li Wei said. "The pelts are worth perhaps two taels in the market. We also have the manure. Come spring, that pile outside will be worth gold to the farmers. I am not losing money, Qingyu. I am burying it in the ground to let it grow."
Qingyu looked at the wolf pelts. They were rough, but thick.
"You are confident," she murmured. "Uncle Zhao De says you are starving. He says the wolves will eat the herd."
"Uncle Zhao De sits by a fire and talks," Li Wei said, his voice dropping an octave. "I stand in the snow and build. The wolves came. We killed them. They are now hats and coats."
He reached under the table and pulled out a small bundle.
"Speaking of which."
He unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a pair of gloves. They were made of tanned leather, lined with the soft, white fur of the belly of the wolf he had killed the first night. The stitching was rough—Li Wei was no tailor—but the leather was supple, and the fur was incredibly dense.
"I made these," Li Wei said, holding them out. "For you."
Qingyu froze. She looked at the gloves, then at him.
"You... made gloves? For me?"
"Your hands are always cold when you write," Li Wei said, looking away, suddenly awkward. "The charcoal braziers in the study aren't enough. These... they keep the heat in. But they're tough enough to hold a pen."
It was a clumsy gift. It wasn't silk, nor jade. It smelled faintly of smoke and wild animal. It was the fur of the beast that had tried to kill them.
Qingyu reached out and took them. The leather was cold, but the fur inside was soft as cloud. She slipped them on. They fit perfectly.
She flexed her fingers. The warmth was instant.
"They are... practical," she said, her voice softer than he had ever heard it. She looked up at him, her mask of indifference slipping just a fraction. "Thank you, Husband."
The word 'Husband' hung in the air. It was the first time she had used it without sarcasm or duty. It was a simple acknowledgment of his place.
"You're welcome," Li Wei grunted, turning back to the ledger to hide his reddening ears.
"However," Qingyu said, her voice sharpening as she pulled the gloves off and tucked them into her sleeve. "Practicality does not pay the New Year's debts. You have a contract, Li Wei. By next autumn, you must show a profit, or I cannot stop the family council from seizing the land."
"I know the terms," Li Wei said.
"Good." She stood up, adjusting her cloak. "The New Year's banquet is in three days. Father expects you to attend. Do not embarrass him. Wear something clean. And..." She paused at the door, glancing back at the wolf-pelt hat hanging on the peg. "Leave the hat. It makes you look like a bandit."
She swept out, leaving the scent of jasmine and the lingering warmth of the gloves behind her.
***
**Three Days Later – Zhao Household New Year's Banquet**
The main hall of the Magistrate's residence was ablaze with light. Red lanterns hung from every beam. The air was thick with the smell of pork, fish, and expensive wine.
Li Wei sat at the lower end of the table, dressed in a clean, blue scholar's robe. He felt uncomfortable without his wolf hat and his boots. The soft soles of the formal shoes felt slippery on the polished floor.
Around him, the relatives chattered.
"A toast to the Magistrate!" Uncle Zhao De stood up, raising his cup. "May the New Year bring prosperity and... fewer burdens to the household."
He glanced at Li Wei. The table went quiet.
"Uncle," Li Wei said calmly, raising his own cup. "May the New Year bring clear eyes to those who cannot see the value in the soil."
A ripple of tension went through the room.
Zhao Rong, the Magistrate, sighed inwardly but smiled diplomatically. "Come, come. It is a night for family. Wei-er, how is the Westland?"
"The snow is deep, Father," Li Wei said. "But the cattle are warm. We have built a new shelter. And we have secured a source of feed that costs next to nothing."
"Feed?" Uncle Zhao De laughed. "You mean the garbage you drag from the city? I heard the servants talking. You feed the Magistrate's cattle table scraps like pigs! It is an insult to the ancestors!"
The laughter was loud this time.
Li Wei didn't flinch. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small, wrapped package.
"Wife," he said, turning to Zhao Qingyu, who sat silently beside him. "I brought a sample of the 'garbage' product."
He placed the package on the table and unwrapped it. It was a block of cured meat.
It wasn't beef. It was the venison from the deer Chen Hu had trapped. Li Wei had smoked it over hickory wood and rubbed it with spices.
"This is deer meat from the Westland," Li Wei said. "We have too much game attacking the herd, so we eat the attackers. Uncle De, please, try the garbage."
He cut a slice and handed it to a servant, who placed it before the Magistrate.
Zhao Rong took a bite. He chewed slowly. His eyes widened.
"This... is excellent," the Magistrate said. "Smoky. Tender. What is the spice?"
"Salt. Pepper. And patience," Li Wei said.
Uncle Zhao De's face turned red, but he couldn't argue with the Magistrate's praise.
"The Westland is wild," Li Wei said, addressing the table. "But wild land yields wild treasures. This year, we ate deer. Next year, we will eat beef. And the year after that... the whole dynasty will know the taste of the Westland."
He looked at Qingyu. She was looking at the gloves she was wearing—the wolf-fur gloves he had made—despite the formal setting.
She looked up and met his gaze. For the first time, there was no disdain. Just a quiet, calculating curiosity.
**[System Notification]**
**[Social Event: New Year Banquet Survived.]**
**[Reputation: Zhao Rong (Respected), Zhao De (Hostile), Zhao Qingyu (Intrigued).]**
**[Winter Phase Complete.]**
**[Time until Spring Thaw: 45 Days.]**
Li Wei drank his wine. It was bitter, but the aftertaste was sweet. He had survived the winter. He had survived the family. Now, he just had to wait for the grass to grow.