The atmosphere in the Chen household had shifted from the excitement of wealth to the quiet, desperate intensity of a besieged army.
The living room was no longer a place for relaxation; it was a workshop. Bundles of gray wool yarn were piled on the *kang*, and the air was thick with the smell of lanolin and the rhythmic *click-click-click* of bamboo needles.
"Keep the tension tight," Chen Yuan instructed, holding up a half-finished sock. "If the heel is loose, it blisters the foot. A blistered soldier can't fight. If the Captain rejects these, we lose the silver."
Liu Shi, despite her tired eyes, moved her needles with practiced speed. "I've been sewing socks since I was ten, San Lang. Don't teach a fish to swim."
Wang Shi, however, was struggling. She was used to rough mending, not the fine, intricate stitching required for the reinforced heel. "This is too thick! The needle won't go through!"
"Use the thicker needle for that part," Chen Mei, the younger sister, said softly. She was surprisingly adept, her small fingers flying through the yarn. "Like this, Sister-in-law."
Chen Yuan watched them. They had ten days to make fifty pairs. That was one hundred socks. With five people working (he and his father helped by rolling yarn balls and preparing the wax), they were just barely on schedule.
"Three days until the deadline," Chen Yuan announced, placing a ball of yarn on the table. "We can't stop now."
He stood up, stretching his aching back. "I'm going to the hill. The weather feels... heavy."
* * *
The sky over the East Hill was a bruised purple.
The wind had picked up, rustling the dry leaves of the oak trees with a sound like tearing paper. It wasn't just the onset of autumn; it was a cold front, a sudden drop in temperature that signaled an early frost or perhaps a storm.
Chen Yuan rode Red Cloud up the slope. The mare sensed the change in pressure; she was skittish, tossing her head and dancing sideways.
"Easy," Chen Yuan murmured, patting her neck. He had learned to read her moods over the past few weeks.
He reached the top and found Xu Tie standing by the fence, looking north.
"The wind smells like snow," Xu Tie said grimly. "Too early. If it snows now, the grass will die back, and the animals won't have time to fatten up before winter."
Chen Yuan looked at the herd. The sheep were huddled together. Hope, the Brahman cow, was grazing calmly, her loose skin rippling in the wind. The Black Bull, however, was pacing the fence line, agitated.
"The bull is restless," Chen Yuan noted.
"He smells the storm," Xu Tie said. "We haven't finished the roof on the new shed. If heavy rain or snow comes tonight, the hay will get wet. Wet hay rots. We can't afford to lose feed."
Chen Yuan's heart tightened. They had spent the money on the bull and the sock materials; they hadn't bought enough tarpaulin.
"We need to secure the shed," Chen Yuan decided. "Now."
He dismounted. "Little Stone! Bring the hammer and the spare planks!"
* * *
They worked against the fading light.
The wind howled, tearing at their clothes. Chen Yuan, Xu Tie, and Little Stone hammered planks over the gaps in the shed walls and piled stones against the base to stop the draft.
"Check the fence!" Chen Yuan shouted over the wind. "The southeast corner!"
"The bull has been rubbing against it!" Little Stone yelled back.
Chen Yuan ran to the corner. The heavy black bull had indeed weakened a post by rubbing his massive flank against it. The post was leaning at a dangerous angle.
If the bull got out in this storm, he could run miles, or be stolen, or fall into a ravine.
"Xu Tie! We need to move the bull into the secure pen!"
The secure pen was a smaller, reinforced enclosure near the main shed, built specifically for the aggressive bull.
Xu Tie grabbed his staff. "Open the gate. I'll drive him."
"No," Chen Yuan said, looking at the bull. The animal was snorting, eyes rolling white. "He's too panicked. If you go in on foot, he might charge. I'll do it on horseback."
"You?" Xu Tie frowned. "You can barely trot."
"I have to learn sometime," Chen Yuan said, vaulting onto Red Cloud. He unwound the lasso from his saddle horn.
"Hey!" he shouted, guiding the horse into the pasture. "Move it, you big lump!"
The bull turned, lowering its horns. It saw the horse and rider as a threat.
The bull charged.
It was a terrifying sight—a ton of muscle and horns bearing down on them. Red Cloud panicked, rearing up.
"Whoa!" Chen Yuan fought for control. He didn't run; he turned the horse sharply, parallet to the bull's path.
He swung the rope.
The loop spun in the wind.
He threw.
It wasn't a perfect catch. The rope didn't land around the neck; it caught around one of the massive horns and draped over the bull's face.
The bull, blinded by the rope on its face, veered sharply to the left—exactly towards the open gate of the secure pen.
"Good!" Xu Tie roared. He slammed the gate shut behind the bull, sliding the heavy timber bolt into place.
The bull slammed into the far fence, shook its head, and finally settled, breathing heavily, trapped.
Chen Yuan sat on the horse, trembling. The adrenaline made his hands shake so badly he nearly dropped the reins.
"You cut it close," Xu Tie said, walking over. "But you didn't fall. And you turned him."
"Lucky," Chen Yuan gasped.
"Skill," Xu Tie corrected. "Or instinct. Either way, you're still alive."
* * *
That night, the storm broke.
It wasn't snow, but freezing rain. *Tick-tick-tick-tick.* The sound was relentless against the roof tiles.
Inside the Chen house, the family worked through the night.
The lamp flickered. The wind rattled the window paper.
"My hands are stiff," Wang Shi complained, blowing on her fingers.
"Keep going," Liu Shi urged. "If we finish tonight, we can dry them by the fire tomorrow morning and deliver them in the afternoon."
Chen Yuan looked at the pile of finished socks. It was growing.
"Thirty pairs... thirty-five... forty..."
He picked up a pair. They were rough, handmade, and smelled slightly of the sheep, but they were thick, dense, and incredibly warm. The reinforced heel looked like a piece of armor.
"These are good," Chen Yuan said. "Really good."
He saw the exhaustion on his sisters' faces.
"Rest," he said. "Mei, Lan, go sleep. Mother, you too. Sister-in-law and Father and I will finish the last ten."
"No," Wang Shi said, surprising him. She bit off a thread with her teeth. "I'm not sleeping if there's money on the table. Pass me the yarn."
Chen Yuan looked at her with new respect. She was sharp-tongued and greedy, but she was a survivor. When it counted, she worked harder than anyone.
* * *
The next morning, the world was white.
A layer of frost covered the ground, sparkling like diamonds. The freezing rain had stopped, leaving the world crisp and cold.
Chen Yuan packed the fifty pairs of socks into two large baskets. He loaded them onto the donkey cart.
"I'm going," he told his father.
"I'll come," Chen Dazhong said, pulling on a coat. "To help carry."
They drove to the village center. The Militia Station was a small, fortified building near the Village Chief's house.
Captain Liu was a burly man with a scarred face, standing outside, inspecting his men. The soldiers were shivering in their thin cotton uniforms.
"Captain Liu," Chen Yuan greeted, bowing. "Teacher Zhao sent me."
Captain Liu turned. "Ah, the sock boy. You made them?"
"Fifty pairs. As requested." Chen Yuan opened the basket.
The Captain reached in and pulled out a pair. He squeezed the wool. He tried to stretch it. It didn't budge.
"Dense," he muttered. He sat down on a rock and pulled off his old, worn-out shoe. His foot was wrapped in rags that were damp and gray.
He pulled on the wool sock.
He stood up, stamping his foot.
He walked a few steps.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"It's... warm," he said. "And it doesn't slip inside the boot."
He looked at Chen Yuan. "Fifty coins a pair?"
"Yes, Captain."
Captain Liu turned to his quartermaster. "Pay him."
The quartermaster counted out the coins. *Clink, clink, clink.*
Two thousand five hundred copper coins.
It took a while to count. It was heavy.
"The socks are good," Captain Liu said, pulling on his boot. "We need more. Can you make one hundred pairs by next month?"
Chen Yuan felt the weight of the money in his hand. It wasn't a fortune. It wasn't the forty taels of the City Lord. But it was solid. It was earned with sweat and needles, not just a lucky biological mutation.
"Yes," Chen Yuan said. "But I need the wool."
"There is a merchant in town selling raw wool cheap," the Captain offered. "He has a cartload he can't sell because it's too coarse for fine clothes. Tell him I sent you. He'll give you a fair price."
"Thank you, Captain."
Chen Yuan walked back to the cart, the coins jingling in his pouch.
"Well?" Chen Dazhong asked, seeing his son's face.
"We have a contract," Chen Yuan smiled. "A long-term contract."
He looked back at the hill. The storm had passed. The sun was melting the frost.
"Father," Chen Yuan said. "Let's go home. I need to buy more needles."