The money from the winter flowers weighed heavy in Chen Yuan's pouch, but it burned a hole in his pocket with a different kind of heat—opportunity.
The New Year was approaching. In the Great Qian Dynasty, the Spring Festival was the most important event of the year. It was a time to settle debts, honor ancestors, and, most importantly, eat.
For a poor family, the New Year was often a time of anxiety, hiding from creditors and scraping together a meager meal. But this year, the Chen family was different.
"Six catties of pork belly," Chen Yuan announced, standing in the butcher's shop in the county town. The smell of raw meat and blood was strong, but to him, it smelled like prosperity. "Two catties of lard. And the offal... give me the liver and the heart."
The butcher, a burly man with a cleaver, nodded respectfully. Chen Yuan was becoming a known face. "Good choices, Young Master Chen. The belly is thick. Good for roasting."
"Not roasting," Chen Yuan corrected. "Curing."
"Curing?" The butcher paused. "It's winter. Why not eat it fresh?"
"Fresh spoils," Chen Yuan said. "Cured lasts. It is the taste of the ranch."
* * *
They returned to the village with the sled laden not just with meat, but with red paper, lamp oil, and a sack of coarse sugar—a luxury item.
The atmosphere in the Chen household was electric. Wang Shi took charge of the meat immediately, her eyes gleaming.
"San Lang, we can make dumplings! And braised pork!" she exclaimed.
"We will make dumplings for New Year's Eve," Chen Yuan said, stopping her before she could cut into the belly. "But this slab... I have a different plan. Sister-in-law, I need salt. Lots of it. And peppercorns. And that sugar."
"What are you making?" Liu Shi asked, curious.
"Something called 'La Rou' (Cured Meat)," Chen Yuan said. "But a special kind. Western style."
In his past life, he had dabbled in making homemade bacon. In this world, without nitrates and modern smokers, it would be a challenge, but he had the System's guidance.
He set up a workstation in the cold outer room. He rubbed the pork belly with a mixture of coarse salt, crushed peppercorns, and a small amount of sugar to balance the flavor and aid preservation.
"Rub it hard," he instructed Chen Mei and Chen Lan, who were watching. "Every inch must be covered. The salt draws out the water. Water is the enemy of meat."
He worked alongside them, his hands cold but efficient.
**[Skill: Food Preservation (Curing) - Beginner.]**
**[System Analysis: Salt concentration optimal. Suggest smoking with fruit wood for antibacterial properties and flavor.]**
After the meat was packed in salt and pressed under a heavy stone, Chen Yuan turned his attention to the shed.
"Little Stone, bring the branches we pruned from the apple trees last month. The dry ones."
"Apple wood?"
"We are going to build a smoker."
* * *
While the meat cured, the house buzzed with the energy of the coming festival.
Little Ming sat at the table, holding the new brush Chen Yuan had bought him. He was practicing characters on the red paper.
"Fortune arrives," he wrote. The strokes were shaky but determined.
"Good," Chen Yuan nodded, walking past with a bucket of water. "But make the 'Fu' character bigger. It needs to be seen from the gate."
Cousin Bao sat in the corner, whittling a piece of wood. He had been quiet since the flower sale, his ego bruised by the hard work and the realization that his younger cousin was the boss. He wore a new padded jacket—Chen Yuan had bought one for everyone, even him—but he wore it like a shroud.
"Bao," Chen Yuan called out.
Bao looked up, sullen. "What?"
"The New Year is in three days. We need to clean the ancestral shrine. Go fetch water and scrub the tables."
"Me? Scrub tables?" Bao stood up, throwing his whittling knife down. "I'm a man! I should be guarding the house or... or going to the city with you!"
"You want to go to the city?" Chen Yuan asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Fine. The night soil buckets need to be taken to the fertilizer pits outside the city walls. It pays five coppers. Do you want that job?"
Bao's face turned green. "No."
"Then scrub the table," Chen Yuan said, turning away. "And stop looking like someone stole your coin. You're fed, you're clothed, and you're paid. That's more than you had a month ago."
Xu Tie, who was mending a fence post nearby, chuckled. "He hates you, but he fears you. That is a start."
"Fear is easier to manage than respect right now," Chen Yuan replied quietly. "Respect comes when I make him rich. He's not there yet."
* * *
Three days later, the smoking process began.
Chen Yuan had fashioned a simple smoker out of a large clay water vat with a hole cut in the bottom. He placed the cured pork slabs on bamboo racks inside.
Underneath, in a small pit, he lit a fire using the dry apple wood and sawdust. It wasn't a roaring fire; it was a smoldering one, producing thick, white smoke.
The smell that filled the courtyard was intoxicating. It wasn't the smell of burning wood; it was sweet, fruity, and savory all at once. The scent of fat rendering slowly and mixing with the apple smoke.
The villagers walking by stopped and sniffed the air.
"What is that smell?" a neighbor asked, leaning over the fence.
"Chen San Lang is burning something?" another guessed.
Wang Shi stood guard by the smoker like a dragon protecting its gold. "Don't get too close! It's a secret recipe!"
By the time the New Year's Eve arrived, the pork had transformed. It was darker, firmer, and coated in a glossy, oily sheen.
Chen Yuan sliced a thin piece from the end.
"Try this," he handed it to his father.
Chen Dazhong took the slice. He sniffed it. The smell of smoke and pepper was strong. He put it in his mouth.
His eyes widened. He chewed slowly.
"It... it has a crunch," he muttered. "And the fat... it doesn't taste greasy. It tastes... rich. Like ham, but different."
"It's Bacon," Chen Yuan said. "We call it Bacon."
He sliced more. The family gathered around.
"It's salty!"
"It smells like the forest!"
"It tastes expensive!"
Even Cousin Bao took a piece. He chewed, his eyes closing involuntarily. He didn't want to like it, but he couldn't help it.
"Good, right?" Chen Yuan asked.
Bao nodded reluctantly. "It's... not bad."
* * *
New Year's Eve.
The snow had stopped falling, leaving the world pristine and white. Red lanterns hung from the eaves of the Chen house, glowing like fiery eyes in the twilight.
The dinner was a feast by their standards. There were dumplings stuffed with pork and cabbage, a stew made from the offal Chen Yuan had bought, and a large platter of stir-fried cabbage with sliced bacon.
The smell of the bacon frying in the wok had driven the children wild.
"Eat," Liu Shi said, her face beaming. "Eat until you burst."
Chen Yuan sat at the table, a bowl of warm rice wine in his hand. He looked at his family.
His father was laughing at a joke Chen Hu made. His mother was feeding Little Ming a dumpling. Wang Shi was actually smiling, her sharp edges softened by the food and the wine. Even Cousin Bao was eating quietly, seemingly content for the moment.
Xu Tie sat at the end of the table. He was included in the family dinner—a gesture that seemed to shock him initially. He held his cup of wine, staring into it.
"Brother Xu," Chen Yuan raised his cup. "To the ranch."
"To the ranch," Xu Tie clinked his cup against Chen Yuan's. "And to not freezing to death."
"To the future scholars!" Little Ming shouted, raising his cup of water.
"To the cows!" Chen Lan chirped.
The room was warm. The wind outside howled, but it couldn't touch them.
* * *
Later that night, the house settled into sleep. The fire in the stove was banked, glowing red through the grate.
Chen Yuan couldn't sleep. He stepped outside into the freezing courtyard.
The sky was clear, filled with a dazzling array of stars. The cold air bit at his lungs, clearing his head.
He walked to the barn. The animals were quiet, sleeping in the warmth of the deep bedding.
He checked on Hope. The cow was lying down, her breathing rhythmic. He placed a hand on her swollen belly.
*System.*
**[Subject: Hope.]**
**[Pregnancy Status: 4 Months.]**
**[Fetus Development: Normal.]**
**[Estimated Due Date: Late March.]**
"Happy New Year, girl," he whispered. "We made it through the winter."
He walked over to Hei Tan. The bull was awake, watching him.
"And you. You pulled a sled, you pulled a cart, and you didn't kill anyone. Good job."
The bull snorted softly.
Chen Yuan went back to the house. He climbed into the warm *kang* and pulled the quilt up.
He closed his eyes.
*Phase 1: Survival. Complete.*
*Phase 2: Capital Accumulation. Ongoing.*
*Phase 3: Expansion. Next Spring.*
He thought about the bacon. The flavor was good, but the salt was a bit uneven. Next time, he would use a brine injection for better distribution.
He thought about the soil. The Steward was steady, but demanding.
He thought about the socks. The militia contract was solid.
He was building a foundation. One brick at a time.
The New Year had arrived. And the Rancher of the Great Dynasty was ready for the spring.