Lin Yan spent three days in bed.
Not because he wanted to rest—but because this body had no choice.
Each morning, his youngest brother sat at the edge of the bed, swinging thin legs, reciting the few characters he knew again and again. His mother fed him spoonfuls of porridge, pretending not to notice that she herself barely ate. His brothers came and went, shoulders heavy with worry they didn't voice.
On the fourth day, Lin Yan finally stood up.
The world swayed.
He steadied himself against the mud wall and took a slow breath. His body was weak, but his mind was clear—clearer than it had been in years.
Outside, the eastern plot lay under the pale winter sun. The soil looked dead.
"Third Brother, don't go out," his mother said quickly. "The wind is cold."
"I won't work," Lin Yan replied. "I'll just look."
That alone reassured no one, but they let him go.
The land crunched under his feet. Hard. Compacted. Starved.
Lin Yan knelt, scooped a handful of soil, and let it fall through his fingers.
Too dry. Too thin. Grain planted here would barely sprout, let alone feed six households.
In his mind, the system interface surfaced quietly.
[Land Condition: Poor]
[Organic Matter: Low]
[Water Retention: Very Low]
[Recommended Action: Grass Cultivation]
Just as he thought.
Grain drained land. Grass healed it.
Lin Yan closed his eyes and focused.
[Unlock: Wild Grass Restoration]
[Cost: 10 System Points]
[Effect: Improves soil structure, increases fertility over time]
He hesitated for a breath—then confirmed.
A faint warmth spread beneath the soil. Nothing flashy. No glow. No miracle.
Just… change.
He stood and walked the plot slowly, committing every corner to memory.
Behind him, footsteps crunched.
The eldest brother frowned. "Yan, what are you staring at?"
"This land," Lin Yan said. "It's tired."
His brother snorted. "Aren't we all?"
Lin Yan smiled faintly. "This land has been forced to give without rest. Grain after grain. Year after year."
"And if we don't plant?" the second brother asked bluntly. "What do we eat?"
Lin Yan turned to face them.
"We raise animals first," he said again. "Chickens to start. Later, larger stock."
"With what money?" the eldest asked.
Lin Yan didn't answer immediately. He bent, snapped a dry weed in half, and said calmly, "Grass grows where grain fails."
They didn't understand.
Not yet.
That afternoon, Lin Yan asked for something strange.
"Save the kitchen scraps," he told his mother. "Even the peels."
She looked confused but nodded.
Then he went to the neighbors.
Not to borrow grain—but to ask for chicken chicks.
No one laughed.
Because pity was cheaper than grain.
By sunset, Lin Yan had three scrawny chicks in a woven basket and a promise for two more in a week.
That night, he stayed awake long after the others slept.
The system interface floated before him.
[Livestock: Chickens (3)]
[Feed Requirement: Low]
[Growth Rate: Normal]
[Recommended: Foraging + Kitchen Waste]
Simple. Manageable.
The next morning, something changed.
Not suddenly—but unmistakably.
The eastern plot looked… different.
Not green. Not alive.
But softer.
Lin Yan knelt again and pressed his palm into the soil.
It gave.
His mother noticed first.
"This ground wasn't like this yesterday," she murmured.
The eldest brother stomped once, then twice.
"Huh."
Lin Yan said nothing.
Three days later, thin shoots appeared.
Wild grass—short, stubborn, clinging to life.
The villagers noticed.
Old Chen, the herdsman, squatted by the fence and stared.
"This soil shouldn't grow anything," he muttered. "But grass… grass always finds a way."
Lin Yan handed him a bowl of water.
"Grass feeds animals," Lin Yan said. "Animals feed people."
Old Chen glanced at him sharply.
"You talk like a man who's raised herds."
Lin Yan smiled but didn't answer.
That evening, the family ate slightly thicker porridge.
Because the chickens had found worms.
Because no one had wasted anything.
Because something—small, quiet, stubborn—had begun to grow.
As Lin Yan stood by the fence, watching the grass bend in the wind, a sentence surfaced in his mind, firm and unshakable.
Grass is the root of wealth.
And this time, he intended to let the land breathe.