The scroll from Undersecretary Wen lay on the family's rough-hewn table, not as a parchment of opportunity, but as an anvil upon which their ambitions would be hammered. The "Prefectural Military Procurement & Breeding Evaluation" was scheduled for the seventh day of the eighth moon—the height of late summer. They had four months to transform their handful of rugged mountain horses and their fledgling reputation into something worthy of an imperial officer's glance.
A new, sharper rhythm overtook the Lin Ranch. The gentle, growth-focused pace of spring hardened into the disciplined cadence of preparation.
The first and most immediate task was the horses themselves. Granite and the four mares were sound and hardy, but "broke to lead" was a far cry from "demonstration ready." They needed to be flawless under saddle, responsive, and able to showcase their stamina and temperament in a public, high-pressure setting.
Zhao He took command of this with the quiet intensity of a general preparing for a campaign. "We are not training parade horses," he told Lin Yan and a keenly observant Lin Xiao. "We are proving trust. An officer wants to see that a horse listens, thinks, and does not panic. That is more valuable than a fancy trot."
His methods were patient and firm. He started with extensive ground work in the round pen they built from cut poles—teaching the horses to move off pressure, to yield their hindquarters, to focus. He introduced the saddle blanket, then the saddle, with infinite patience, letting them sniff and inspect the strange contraptions until curiosity overcame fear. Lin Yan learned to watch the horses' ears, the tension around their eyes, the minute tells that signaled anxiety or understanding.
The first time Lin Yan mounted Mist, the grey mare, his heart thudded against his ribs. He'd ridden the placid farm donkey before, but this was different. Mist was alive with coiled energy. She stood still as Zhao He held her, her ears swiveling back to catch Lin Yan's movements. He settled into the saddle, a simple but well-made thing purchased at great cost from a saddler in Yellow Creek. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, at a soft click from Zhao He, Mist walked forward. The movement was fluid, powerful. It felt less like sitting on an animal and more like being granted permission to share in its grace.
[Skill Developed: Basic Equestrianism.]
[Human-Animal Bond: 'Mist' – Trust established under saddle.]
[Understanding: Equine training is a language of pressure and release, not force.]
Progress was measured in such small, profound victories. Sumac proved to be a natural, steady and willing. Whisper was more sensitive, requiring a lighter touch. Rime was clever and sometimes tried to evade work, which Zhao He countered with calm persistence. And Granite, the stallion, was a project unto himself. He was not vicious, but proud and intensely smart. He tested every boundary. Zhao He worked with him separately, building a relationship of mutual respect that was more partnership than ownership.
"The stallion is the face of the herd," Zhao He explained as they watched Granite move freely in the round pen, his dun coat gleaming in the sun. "They will look at him first. He must show calm power, not restless anger."
While Zhao He and Lin Yan focused on the horses, the rest of the family mobilized to support them. The trial wasn't just about the animals; it was about the entire operation. The evaluators would judge the ranch's capacity—its land, its management, its sustainability.
Lin Zhu and Lin Tie, with help from Blacksmith Kang and even a few paid laborers from the village (a first for the Lin family), began a major infrastructure push. They erected a new, larger training arena with properly graded footing. They expanded the hay shed and built a dedicated, airy stable for the horses, with a tack room to store gear properly. Every nail, every beam, was a statement of professionalism.
Wang Shi, Lin Xiaohua, and Meilan turned their efforts to the ranch's presentation. They whitewashed the exterior walls of the main hut and new buildings with lime, making the compound gleam against the green hills. They planted hardy flowering shrubs by the gate and along the main path. "We may be a working ranch," Wang Shi said, her mouth set in a determined line, "but we will not look poor. We will look… capable."
The pasture management became a military operation. Lin Yan used his system knowledge to implement a strict rotational grazing plan for the horses, moving them daily to fresh paddocks to ensure they had the best possible nutrition and to keep the land pristine. The alpine meadows, now fully accessible, became their secret weapon. Once a week, Zhao He and Lin Yan would take the horses on the long climb, letting them graze on the high, nutrient-dense grass and harden their legs on the rocky terrain. These trips were also training, acclimating the horses to traveling in a group, to strange sights and sounds, and to trusting their handlers in unpredictable environments.
The system rewarded this holistic push with a steady trickle of points, which Lin Yan invested back into crucial knowledge: 'Advanced Pasture Agronomy' for maximizing yield, 'Equine Athletic Conditioning' for building stamina without injury, and 'Principles of Animal Presentation & Showmanship.'
The latter was particularly foreign to him. It felt like vanity. But Zhao He agreed it was necessary. "In the imperial world, form is substance. How an animal stands, how it is groomed, how it is presented—this speaks of the care behind it. A dusty, tangled mane suggests a distracted owner."
So, they learned to pull manes to a neat, even length, to trim tails, to groom coats until they shone. Lin Xiao, with his small, careful hands, became an expert at braiding mane sections with strips of leather, a simple but elegant touch.
As the ranch transformed, so did its place in the village. The sight of the Lin family employing others, building substantial new structures, and moving with such focused purpose silenced the last of the lingering gossip. Old Chen's visits ceased altogether. He watched from a distance, his earlier warnings having materialized into a reality that had utterly outstripped him. The Lin Ranch was no longer a village concern; it was an entity dealing with prefectural powers.
One afternoon, a well-dressed courier arrived, not from the prefecture, but from the Zhang family. He brought a letter for Lin Dahu and Wang Shi. Lin Xiaolian was pregnant. The news sent a wave of pure, uncomplicated joy through the family. It was a anchor of normalcy, a reminder of life's simple, profound cycles amidst the high-stakes preparation. They sent back gifts of their best eggs and a delicate, woolen blanket spun by Wang Shi.
The juxtaposition was not lost on Lin Yan. They were fighting for a place in the Empire's machinery while celebrating the creation of a new life within their own family sphere. It grounded him.
Two moons before the trial, the first major test arrived. Merchant Huang visited with Undersecretary Wen. It was an informal inspection. Wen said little as he toured the facilities, watched Zhao He put Granite through his paces in the round pen, and examined the pristine pastures and full hay stores. His face remained an unreadable mask.
Later, over tea in the now-whitewashed main room, Wen finally spoke to Huang, as if Lin Yan weren't there. "The infrastructure is surprisingly adequate. The stock is… as described. Rugged. The management appears competent." He turned his gaze to Lin Yan. "The trial will have three parts: a conformation and soundness evaluation, a basic obedience and handling test, and a stamina trial—a measured distance ride over mixed terrain. Your horses will be judged alongside those from the Liu estate, who have bred cavalry horses for three generations, and the Wang family of the southern valley, who import bloodstock from the capital."
He stood to leave. At the door, he paused. "Do not bring pretty horses. Bring tough horses. And make sure they are the toughest there."
It was the closest thing to encouragement they would get.
The final weeks were a blur of polishing details. They conditioned the horses for the stamina trial with increasingly long rides. They practiced the obedience tests until the horses responded to subtle shifts in weight and breath. They fussed over hooves and coats.
The night before they were to depart for the prefectural capital, the family gathered. The mood was tense, a quiet hum of anxiety. They were packing the two best carts with supplies, with three horses to present: Granite, Mist, and Sumac. Zhao He, Lin Yan, and Lin Zhu would go. Lin Tie would stay to protect the ranch.
Lin Dahu placed a hand on Lin Yan's shoulder. "You have built something from nothing. Whatever happens tomorrow, that remains true. Go. Show them what a Lin Ranch horse is."
They left at dawn, the three horses tied behind the carts, their coats gleaming, their hooves perfect. As they descended from their valley, Lin Yan looked back. The ranch looked small again from a distance, but it shone white and green in the morning light, a tidy dream against the vast, sleeping hills.
They were no longer just farmers. They were contestants, stepping onto the anvil of the Empire's regard. They had four months of sweat, knowledge, and care forged into the three animals that trotted behind them. Now, they would see if their steel was strong enough to hold an edge.