The morning after their return from Yellow Creek Town dawned with a different quality of light. It wasn't just the sun; it was the atmosphere inside the Lin hut. The air, usually heavy with unspoken worry, felt lighter, charged with a cautious, fragile energy. Twenty-three copper coins, now carefully wrapped in a scrap of oiled cloth and buried beneath a specific floor stone near the hearth, had rewritten the family's immediate future.
Lin Yan woke to the sound of low, earnest conversation. His father and Lin Zhu were already discussing the day's plan over bowls of yam porridge.
"...pay the interest today. Straight away," Lin Dahu was saying, his voice firm. "No delay, no room for Old Chen to add another day's 'consideration.' We go with the exact amount, in his hand."
"And we go together," Lin Zhu added. "You, me, and A-Yan. A show of unity. And strength."
Lin Tie, silently sharpening a digging stick with a flint nodule, grunted his agreement. It was a martial plan.
After the simple meal, Lin Yan counted out fourteen copper coins. They felt warm from their hiding place. He, his father, and Lin Zhu walked the short path to the center of Willow Creek Village, where the Chen compound—a cluster of three sturdy, tiled-roof buildings surrounded by a woven bamboo fence—dominated the landscape. The contrast with their own single, mud-brick hut was stark.
Old Chen was in his yard, supervising his two oxen as they were hitched to a heavy plough. He saw them approach and his face arranged itself into its customary expression of benign authority, but his eyes were sharp, missing nothing.
"Lin Dahu! And your sons. An early visit." His gaze lingered on Lin Yan. "Back from the county town, I hear. The road treats you well?"
"It did, Uncle Chen," Lin Dahu said, stopping a respectful distance away. He didn't smile, but his posture was straight, the perpetual stoop less pronounced. "We have come on business. Regarding the loan for the two dou of millet from the winter snows."
"Ah, yes." Old Chen sighed, as if burdened by the memory of his own generosity. "A hard season for all. The interest, as we agreed…"
"Is fourteen copper coins," Lin Yan finished smoothly, stepping forward slightly. He held out his hand, the coins stacked neatly in his palm. They shone dully in the morning light. "Calculated at twenty percent, based on the market value of the grain at the time of the loan. Please verify the count."
There was a beat of stunned silence. Old Chen's eyes fixed on the coins. He had expected pleas, excuses, perhaps an offer of labor or a few eggs. He had not expected exact, upfront payment in hard currency. His son, Chen Fu, emerged from the stable, wiping his hands on his trousers, his expression mirroring his father's surprise.
Old Chen recovered quickly, reaching out to take the coins. He didn't count them in front of them; to do so would imply distrust of their count, which was itself an insult. He simply closed his fist around them, the weight and feel clearly correct. The transaction, so clean and swift, had robbed him of his leverage for a speech about responsibility and his own magnanimity.
"Your… egg venture was fruitful, then," he said, his tone carefully neutral.
"The hens are healthy," Lin Yan said, offering nothing more. "We are grateful for your assistance during our difficulty. We hope to be free of the principal debt after the harvest, as agreed."
It was a polite, formal dismissal. We've paid the price of your help. The account is settling. We are not yours.
Old Chen heard it. A flicker of something cold passed behind his eyes. Dependents were predictable. Ambitious, rising neighbors were not. "Of course. A man's word is his bond. I wish you continued… health with your chickens." The pause was deliberate. "The tax clerk will be here in two weeks and six days. He prefers silver. But I'm sure a resourceful family will manage."
The reminder was a parting shot, reasserting the larger, inescapable hierarchy. They might be free of him, but they were not free of the Emperor's reach.
"We are mindful," Lin Dahu said, dipping his head. With that, the three Lin men turned and walked away, leaving Old Chen standing in his yard, fist clenched around their coins, watching their retreating backs.
Back at their own plot, the family exhaled a collective breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding. The first shackle was broken.
"Now," Lin Yan said, as they gathered around their rickety outdoor table. "We have nine coins left. And twenty-eight days until the tax man. The mission is 38 eggs short." He laid it out like a campaign, which it was. "We use the coins not for grain, but for growth."
He presented his plan, hammered out in his mind during the sleepless hours of the night.
"First, we buy two more laying hens. Not old, scrawny ones. Young, healthy pullets from a farm outside the village, where they might have better stock. Cost: maybe three or four coins each."
Lin Zhu nodded. "More hens, more eggs. Simple."
"Second," Lin Yan continued, "we buy a small amount of real grain—millet or cracked wheat—not for us, but for the chickens. To supplement the insects and greens. A consistent energy source to keep egg production high and reliable. We mix it with the 'mineral clay' I found." He tapped the system-bought supplement, which had a week's dose left.
Wang Shi, practical as ever, saw the wisdom. "A full belly lays a steady egg. It is true for all creatures."
"Third," Lin Yan said, his voice lowering. "We need information. We need to know the exact tax rate, what the clerk accepted last year, what he might demand this year. We need to know if there are other buyers in the county town, perhaps an inn or a tavern that would take a regular supply of our 'medicinal' eggs at a bulk discount for reliability."
This was longer-term thinking. Commercial relationships. Supply chains.
"I can go," Lin Zhu offered. "Back to the county town in a few days. I have my apprenticeship contacts. I can ask after prices, listen to gossip in the carpenter's guild hall."
"And I," said Lin Xiaohua, her gentle voice surprising everyone. She flushed but continued. "When… when I go to the Li family in the next village to finalize the betrothal arrangements next week, I can listen. Farmer Li deals with the tax clerk directly. His wife talks. I can hear things."
It was a brilliant point. The sisters, moving between households as marriage prospects, were information networks in waiting. Lin Yan looked at his sister with new respect. "That would be invaluable, elder sister."
A plan was formed. The remaining nine coins were allocated: six for two new hens, two for a small sack of feed grain, one kept in reserve.
That afternoon, Lin Zhu and Lin Tie set out for a farmstead two valleys over, known for its poultry. Lin Yan and Lin Xiao resumed their roles as chief foragers and chicken-tenders. The system's Vitality Boost was working; the spotted hen laid another small but perfect egg, and the black hen produced her daily contribution. Eggs Collected: 14.
While digging for grubs, Lin Yan's mind wasn't idle. The tax problem was a looming cliff. Silver. They needed to generate something of higher value than eggs. His eyes wandered to the rough, stony pastureland that stretched up the hill behind their property—land too poor for crops, used only for collecting firewood. The system had mentioned grass improvement. He pulled up the interface.
[Grassland (Barren Slope – 5 Mu). Soil Quality: Very Poor. Vegetation: Sparse scrub, tough inedible grasses.]
[Improvement Options:]
· Basic Soil Amendment Knowledge: 15 Points.
· Hardy Forage Grass Seed Mix (1 Mu coverage): 25 Points.
He had 19 points. Not enough for the seed, but close. The soil knowledge was a prerequisite anyway. An investment in the future, in the land itself. He purchased it.
A stream of information about composting, natural fertilizers (like their accumulating chicken manure), pH balancing with ash, and simple water retention techniques flowed into him. He looked at the barren slope with new eyes. It wasn't useless; it was untapped potential. Future grazing land. For what, he didn't yet know, but the system wouldn't offer grass seed for chickens.
As evening fell, Lin Zhu and Lin Tie returned. Between them, in a covered basket, were two beautiful young hens with rich, red-brown feathers and bright, alert eyes. They had bartered hard, getting the pair for five coins and a promise of future chicken-raising advice. They also carried a small, precious sack of cracked wheat.
The integration was swift. The new hens, after initial squawking and posturing from the black hen, were settled into the spacious coop. The flock was now five.
[Livestock Assets Updated: Laying Hens x5. Flock Cohesion: Good.]
[Mission Projection Recalculated: With enhanced flock and continued care, 50-egg goal is 97% probable.]
[Points Awarded for Strategic Flock Expansion: +8.]
Total Points: 27. He was almost there for the grass seed.
That night, the family ate their humble meal with a sense of momentum. They had paid a debt. They had expanded their operation. They had a multi-pronged plan. For the first time, they were thinking in terms of strategy, not just survival.
Lin Yan lay on the kang, listening to the soft, contented sounds of five hens settling in their safe, dry house. The system screen glowed.
[Mission: 14/50 Eggs. Days Remaining: 26.]
[Short-Term Goal: Imperial Tax (Silver) – Deadline: 26 Days.]
[Long-Term Foundation: Grassland Development – Initiated.]
They had paid the piper his interest. Now, they had to compose the tune of their own survival, a melody that needed to ring with the clear, bright sound of silver before the month was out. The ranch had its flock. The next step was to make the land itself sing.