The morning light crept into the Chen household like an uninvited guest, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air and casting long shadows across the mud-brick floor. For most of the family, the day began with the usual routine—stoking the fire, preparing breakfast, checking the livestock. But there was an added tension that morning, a silent undercurrent that flowed beneath the mundane tasks.
In the corner of the main room, on a pile of old quilts laid out over a straw mat, lay the stranger.
Xu Tie.
Chen Yuan stood in the doorway, watching the man sleep. Even in unconsciousness, the soldier's face was tight with pain, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. The bandages wrapped around his torso were spotted with dark stains—blood and herbal poultice—but the bleeding had stopped, and his breathing was steady.
*He looks younger when he sleeps*, Chen Yuan thought. *Not soft—men like this never look soft—but less... dangerous.*
"You've been staring at him for a while."
The voice came from behind. Chen Yuan turned to see his grandmother, a small woman with sharp eyes and a posture that defied her age. She walked with a slight limp—the result of a fall two winters ago—but she moved with purpose, carrying a small clay bowl filled with a dark, pungent liquid.
"Grandmother."
"The fever broke in the night," she said, kneeling beside Xu Tie with a grunt of effort. "He's strong. Stronger than he has any right to be. Most men would have died from a wound like that, blood loss and cold together. But this one... he fights."
She dipped a spoon into the bowl and lifted it to the man's lips, coaxing the liquid into his mouth with the practiced patience of someone who had tended the sick many times before.
"Will he live?"
"He'll live." She wiped a drop of liquid from the man's chin. "Whether that's a blessing or a curse for this family remains to be seen. Your grandfather is in the courtyard, sharpening his hatchet. Not to kill the man, I think, but to make a point. Your father is with him. You should go speak to them."
Chen Yuan nodded slowly. He had known this conversation was coming. The bringing of a stranger—especially a wounded, possibly dangerous stranger—into a family home was not a small matter in a village like Willow Creek. It disrupted the fragile order of their lives and invited unknown risks.
"I'll go."
"And Yuan?"
"Yes, Grandmother?"
"Next time you find a dying man by the river... leave him there."
Her tone was light, almost joking, but her eyes were serious. Chen Yuan bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment, then turned and walked toward the courtyard.
---
The morning air was cool, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. In the center of the courtyard, his grandfather sat on a low stool, a hatchet in one hand and a whetstone in the other. The scraping of metal against stone was slow, rhythmic, almost meditative.
Chen Dazhong stood nearby, leaning against the wooden frame of the well, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his worry.
"Sit," the Old Master said, not looking up from his work.
Chen Yuan obeyed, settling on a rough wooden bench across from his grandfather. For a long moment, the only sound was the scrape of the whetstone and the distant crowing of a rooster.
"You know what you've done," the Old Master finally said. It wasn't a question.
"I saved a man's life."
"You brought a wolf into a sheep pen." The Old Master looked up then, his eyes sharp and assessing. "A wounded wolf, yes. A grateful wolf, perhaps. But still a wolf. Soldiers are not like us, Yuan. They live by different rules. They kill without hesitation, and they die without regret. If this man has enemies, if he has debts of blood, those enemies will come looking. And when they do, they won't care that we are simple farmers who showed him kindness."
"I understand, Grandfather."
"Do you?" The old man's voice softened slightly. "You are my grandson. I have watched you grow from a babe in arms to the man who sits before me. And in all those years, I have never known you to be reckless. Impulsive, perhaps—what young man isn't?—but never reckless. So tell me. Why? Why risk everything for a stranger?"
Chen Yuan hesitated. How could he explain the certainty he had felt? The sense that this man was meant to be found, meant to be part of his path? How could he speak of the System, of the ranch he dreamed of building, of the skills this soldier possessed?
He couldn't. Not entirely. But he could speak of other things.
"Grandfather, do you remember what Teacher Liu said about Little Ming?"
The change of subject seemed to surprise the Old Master, but he nodded slowly. "He said the boy has the mind of a scholar. That he could go far, if given the chance."
"And do you remember what you told me when I asked about buying goats? You said a family decides together. That one man alone cannot change our fate."
"This is about the goats?"
"This is about everything." Chen Yuan leaned forward, his voice earnest. "Grandfather, I've been thinking. Really thinking. We work hard. The hardest in the village, I'd wager. Father is in the fields before dawn. Mother's hands never stop moving. Brother Shan and Brother Hu pour their sweat into the soil. And for what? A harvest that barely feeds us through the winter. A tax bill that takes everything we manage to save."
"That is the life of a farmer," the Old Master said quietly. "It has always been so."
"But it doesn't have to be." Chen Yuan's voice gained strength. "The Imperial Examination is the only path up, yes. But that path costs money—money for books, tutors, travel, lodging. Money we don't have. And we won't ever have it, not by farming alone. The land is too small, the soil too poor, the taxes too high."
"So you bring home a wounded soldier? How does that solve anything?"
"I don't know yet." Chen Yuan admitted. "But I saw something in him. A warrior, yes. But also a man with nowhere to go, no one to turn to. If we help him, truly help him, he might... stay. He might lend us his strength. And we need strength, Grandfather. Not just the strength of arms and backs, but the strength of skills we don't possess. Horsemanship. Weapons. The knowledge of the wider world."
The Old Master stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he set down the hatchet and whetstone.
"You think far ahead, boy. Further than I expected." He sighed, a sound heavy with the weight of years. "I was like you once. Young, full of plans, certain that if I just worked hard enough, thought cleverly enough, I could lift my family from poverty. I married a good woman. I raised strong sons. I worked until my back bent and my hands bled. And here I sit, an old man in a mud-brick house, still one bad harvest away from starvation."
"Grandfather—"
"Let me finish." The old man raised a hand. "I am not complaining. This is the life I was given, and I have lived it with what dignity I could. But you... you have something I never did. A fire in your eyes. A way of looking at the world as if it's a puzzle to be solved rather than a burden to be carried."
He stood, his joints creaking, and walked toward the main house. At the door, he paused and looked back.
"I will trust your judgment on this. For now. But if this soldier brings harm to our family, it will be on your head. Not your father's. Not mine. Yours. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Grandfather."
"Good. Now go help your mother. And try not to bring home any more strays."
---
With his grandfather's tentative approval secured—at least for the moment—Chen Yuan turned his attention to the immediate problem: money.
The family's finances, as he had learned, were grim. They had perhaps two taels of silver saved over the past three years—a paltry sum that represented every extra copper scraped together from selling vegetables, eggs, and the occasional day labor. Two taels, and the autumn tax would take at least one and a half, leaving them with barely enough to survive the winter.
And now they had another mouth to feed. A healing man who needed protein, warmth, and rest—luxuries the Chen family could ill afford.
*Even if Xu Tie recovers completely, he can't stay here for free*, Chen Yuan thought. *He'll need to earn his keep. But first, I need to keep him alive. And that means...*
"Third Brother, are you listening?"
He blinked, pulled from his thoughts. Mei stood before him, a basket of eggs in her arms.
"Sorry, Mei. What were you saying?"
"I asked if you could take these eggs to Auntie Wang's house. She's expecting them—Mother promised three eggs in exchange for the herbal poultice she gave us last month. And while you're there, see if her husband needs help with anything. He mentioned his fence was broken, and we owe them for... well, for a lot of things."
The web of village obligations was complex, Chen Yuan was learning. Everything was borrowed, traded, or promised. Nothing was free.
"I'll go."
"And be polite," Mei added, her voice stern. "Auntie Wang has a sharp tongue, and she'll use it if she thinks you're being disrespectful."
"I'm always polite."
"You're always quiet. There's a difference. With Auntie Wang, you need to speak. Ask about her health, compliment her chickens, and pretend you're interested in her complaints about the village chief's pig. That's how you get on her good side."
Chen Yuan smiled despite himself. "I didn't realize you were such an expert in diplomacy."
"I'm the one who has to trade with these people every week. You'd learn quickly too if your stomach depended on it."
He took the basket from her, tucking it carefully under his arm. "I'll be back soon."
---
The Wang family lived on the other side of the village, in a house slightly larger and somewhat better maintained than the Chen home. Wang Dajiang—the head of the household—was a thin, nervous man who had somehow married one of the most formidable women in the village. Auntie Wang, as she was universally known, was short, round, and possessed a voice that could carry across three rice paddies.
"Ai-yah! The Chen boy!"
Chen Yuan had barely stepped through the gate before Auntie Wang appeared, her hands on her hips and her eyes sharp with curiosity.
"Come in, come in. I heard your family took in a stranger. A wounded man found by the river! Is it true? Is he a bandit? A deserter? My cousin's husband's brother works in the town yamen, you know, and he says the roads are full of dangerous men these days. Soldiers turned beggars, beggars turned thieves. You can't be too careful!"
"He's... resting," Chen Yuan said carefully, handing her the basket of eggs. "My grandmother is watching him."
"Your grandmother? That old woman could scare away a tiger with her glare. Good, good. Keep a close eye on him." She peered at Chen Yuan's face, her expression shifting from curiosity to calculation. "You look better. The fever is gone?"
"Yes, thank you for asking."
"Hmph. Don't thank me, thank your mother. She practically carried you back from the fields when you collapsed. A mother's love, that's what saved you. Not the fever, not the herbs—just a mother refusing to let her son die."
Chen Yuan felt a pang of emotion. In his previous life, his mother had passed away when he was young. He barely remembered her. But here, in this world, Liu Shi's fierce love was a tangible force.
"I know," he said quietly. "I'm grateful."
"Gratitude is good. Gratitude shows character." Auntie Wang seemed satisfied with his response. She took the eggs and examined them one by one, holding each up to the light. "Good. Not cracked. Tell your mother the debt is paid. Now, are you here for the fence, or are you here to listen to an old woman talk?"
"Both, if you'll have me."
She laughed, a surprisingly hearty sound. "Ha! A polite one. Your brother Hu could learn from you. That boy has a tongue sharper than a sickle. Come, my husband is in the back, cursing at the chickens. Again."
The Wang property was modest but well-organized. A vegetable garden in the front, a pig pen on the side, and a small flock of sheep in a fenced enclosure at the back. The sheep—perhaps a dozen in total—were the family's main source of wealth. Every spring, they produced lambs that could be sold for meat or wool, providing a steady, if modest, income.
As they passed the sheep pen, Chen Yuan slowed. Something was wrong.
The sheep were clustered in the corner of the enclosure, their movements sluggish. One of them—a ewe—was lying apart from the others, her head down, her breathing labored. Her flanks were distended, and she made no move to stand even when the other sheep jostled her.
**[System Alert: Livestock health anomaly detected. Species: Sheep (Ovis aries). Symptoms: Lethargy, abdominal distension, labored breathing. Preliminary diagnosis: Bloat (Ruminal Tympany). Cause: Likely consumption of fermenting feed or legume-rich pasture. Condition: Critical. Mortality risk: High without intervention.]**
Chen Yuan's eyes widened. Bloat. He knew that word. In his previous life, he had read about ranching extensively—daydreams of a different life during long office hours. Bloat was a common condition in sheep and cattle, caused by gas buildup in the rumen. If not treated quickly, the pressure could become so great that it crushed the animal's lungs, causing death by suffocation.
*This sheep will die if I don't do something.*
"Auntie Wang," he said urgently. "That sheep—is it sick?"
She followed his gaze, her face falling. "Ah, the spotted ewe. She's been like that since yesterday. Won't eat, won't stand. My husband says it's a bad spirit, that we should sell her for meat before she dies and ruins the meat."
"Has a doctor looked at her?"
"A doctor? For a sheep?" Auntie Wang scoffed. "Doctors are for people. Animals live or die as the heavens decide. Why waste good money on a beast that might not last the week?"
*She doesn't know. No one here knows how to treat this.*
**[System Knowledge Available: Treatment for Bloat in Sheep. Methods: 1) Stomach tube insertion to release gas. 2) Trocar and cannula puncture (emergency procedure). 3) Oral administration of antifoaming agents (vegetable oil or mineral oil). Host lacks specialized equipment. Recommend improvised intervention.]**
*Tell me the improvised method.*
**[Administer 100-200ml of vegetable oil or cooking fat orally. Walk the animal to encourage gas passage. If distension is severe and breathing is compromised, use a sharp, clean knife to puncture the rumen at the left flank (trocar technique). This carries risk of infection but will prevent immediate death by suffocation.]**
A knife. A puncture to the flank. It sounded barbaric, but Chen Yuan knew—with the System's knowledge confirming his instincts—that it was the only way to save the ewe's life in this critical state.
"Auntie Wang," he said, stepping toward the pen. "I think I can help."
"Help? What do you know about sheep? You're a farmer, not a shepherd."
"I've seen this before." It wasn't a lie, technically. The System had given him knowledge, and knowledge was a form of experience. "The ewe has gas trapped in her stomach. If we don't release it, she'll die within hours."
"Gas?" Auntie Wang looked skeptical. "Sheep get gas all the time. They just—"
"Not like this." Chen Yuan climbed into the pen, moving slowly so as not to startle the other sheep. The sick ewe didn't react at all, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "Feel her left flank. It should be tight, like a drum."
Auntie Wang hesitated, then followed him into the pen. She pressed a hand to the ewe's side and gasped.
"It's... it's hard as a rock! I've never felt anything like this!"
"That's the gas. It's building up pressure inside her. We need to release it, or her lungs will be crushed."
"How?"
*A good question.* The trocar method was risky. Without proper sterilization and aftercare, the wound could become infected, killing the sheep slowly rather than quickly. But the vegetable oil method might be too slow for an animal this far gone.
*Try the oil first. If that doesn't work... then the knife.*
"Do you have cooking oil? Vegetable oil, lard, anything like that?"
"Of course, but—"
"Bring it. And something to pour it with. Quickly."
Auntie Wang's husband, Wang Dajiang, had emerged from the back of the house, drawn by the commotion. He was a thin man with a perpetually worried expression, and his eyes widened when he saw Chen Yuan kneeling beside the sick ewe.
"What's happening? Is that the Chen boy? What's he doing with my sheep?"
"Quiet, old man!" Auntie Wang shouted over her shoulder. "The boy says he knows what's wrong! Go get the cooking oil!"
Wang Dajiang blinked in confusion but obeyed, disappearing into the house and returning moments later with a clay jar. Chen Yuan took it, uncorking the lid and sniffing. Rapeseed oil. Pungent, but usable.
"Hold her head," he instructed. "Make sure she can swallow."
Auntie Wang knelt beside the ewe, lifting the animal's head and holding her mouth open. Chen Yuan poured a steady stream of oil into the ewe's mouth, massaging her throat to encourage swallowing.
"Come on," he murmured. "Swallow. Let it work."
For a long moment, nothing happened. The ewe's breathing remained labored, her eyes unfocused. Then, slowly, a low rumbling sound emerged from her belly—a gurgle, followed by a long, loud release of gas from both ends.
"Oh!" Auntie Wang recoiled, waving a hand in front of her face. "That smell!"
"That's good," Chen Yuan said, a smile breaking across his face. "The pressure is releasing. Auntie, we need to walk her. Get her on her feet, make her move. It'll help the gas pass."
Between the three of them—Chen Yuan, Auntie Wang, and her bewildered husband—they managed to get the ewe to her feet. At first, she stumbled, her legs weak from lying down for so long. But as the gas continued to pass, her breathing eased, and her eyes cleared.
"She's standing," Wang Dajiang breathed, his voice full of wonder. "She's actually standing. I thought... I was sure she was a goner."
"Walk her around the pen," Chen Yuan instructed. "Slowly. For at least an hour. And don't let her eat anything for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, give her only dry hay—no fresh grass or legumes. Her stomach needs time to recover."
Auntie Wang stared at him, her expression a mixture of shock and newfound respect.
"Chen Yuan... how did you know? Where did you learn this?"
He hesitated. The truth—that a mysterious System had provided him with veterinary knowledge—was impossible to explain. Instead, he offered a partial truth.
"I've been studying. Animals, husbandry. I want to learn about ranching, about livestock. When I was sick, I had a lot of time to think, and I remembered some things I'd heard from travelers."
"Studying," she repeated slowly. "You? A farmer's son?"
"Is it so strange?"
"In this village? Yes." But her tone wasn't mocking. It was thoughtful. "Most young men your age think only of girls and gambling. Or drinking with their friends. You... you're different."
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded as if coming to a decision.
"You saved my ewe. That sheep was a gift from my father, God rest his soul. She's given me six lambs over the years. If she had died..." She cleared her throat, brushing away a suspicious moisture from her eyes. "If she had died, it would have been a hard blow. We have debts, same as everyone. Every sheep counts."
"I'm glad I could help."
"Help, he says. As if it were nothing." She turned to her husband. "Old Wang, go get the eggs. No—not the eggs we just got. Go get a fresh basket. And bring the jar of honey from the back shelf."
"Honey? Woman, that's for—"
"Bring it!" She turned back to Chen Yuan. "You've done us a service. In this village, we pay our debts. The eggs your mother sent—that's old business. This is new business. And I pay my bills."
"You don't have to—"
"Don't tell me what I have to do. I know what's right. You saved a life today. Four legs, but a life nonetheless. That deserves thanks."
She pressed the basket of eggs and the jar of honey into his hands, ignoring his protests. By the time Chen Yuan left the Wang household, he was laden with gifts, and his mind was racing.
*It worked. The System's knowledge—it actually worked.*
He had known, theoretically, that the System was a valuable tool. But knowing and doing were two different things. This was the first time he had applied his knowledge in a real situation, and the result was tangible. Real. A life saved. A debt created. A reputation begun.
*If I can do this for one sheep, I can do it for others. For cattle. For horses. In a village full of animals, veterinary knowledge is worth... everything.*
But even as hope surged in his chest, he reminded himself of the reality. Saving one sheep didn't make him a veterinarian. It made him a farmer who knew one trick. To truly build a reputation—to truly make money from this knowledge—he needed to learn more, do more, prove himself over and over again.
*Step by step*, he thought. *One sheep at a time.*
---
When Chen Yuan returned home, he found the household in a state of controlled chaos. His second brother, Chen Hu, was arguing with his wife in the kitchen, their voices low but heated. His mother was stirring a pot of something that smelled vaguely like food but looked like brown water. And in the corner of the courtyard, Little Ming sat on a wooden stool, a slate tablet in his lap, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Third Brother!" Little Ming looked up, his face brightening. "You're back! Did you really save a sheep? I heard Auntie Wang telling everyone in the village square!"
"News travels fast," Chen Yuan said, setting down his gifts. "Yes, I helped. But it was nothing special."
"Nothing special?" Liu Shi emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her expression was a mixture of pride and exasperation. "Auntie Wang is telling everyone you performed a miracle. She says you cured a dying sheep with nothing but oil and your hands. People are already asking if you can look at their animals!"
"That's... good. I think."
"Good? It's trouble, is what it is." She took the eggs and honey from him, examining them with a practiced eye. "Honey. Real honey. She must have been grateful. But Yuan, you need to be careful. If you go around treating animals and something goes wrong, the village won't praise you—they'll blame you. And in a small place like this, blame sticks."
"I know, Mother. I'll be careful."
"See that you are." She paused, her expression softening. "But... I'm proud of you. You did a good thing. Your grandmother is inside, watching the stranger. He woke up for a bit, asked for water. He's strong, she says. Strong and stubborn."
"Can I see him?"
"Go ahead. But don't tire him out. And if he tries to stab you again, duck."
---
Xu Tie was awake.
He sat propped against the wall, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and deliberate. His face was pale, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but his expression was calm—controlled, almost, as if he were consciously managing his pain.
Chen Yuan knelt beside him, keeping his movements slow and non-threatening.
"Xu Tie. How are you feeling?"
One eye cracked open, then the other. The soldier studied him for a long moment before speaking.
"The farmer's son. Chen Yuan."
"That's me."
"I live."
"You do. Thanks to my mother and grandmother."
"And you." Xu Tie's voice was rough, but there was no hostility in it. "I remember. You found me. You brought me here. You could have walked away."
"I couldn't leave you to die."
"Why?" The question was blunt, direct. "You don't know me. You don't owe me anything. Bringing me here risked your family. Why would a farmer's son take that risk for a stranger?"
Chen Yuan considered his answer carefully. He could have lied, offered some platitude about kindness or duty. But something told him that Xu Tie would see through a lie. This was a man who had survived battles, who had killed and nearly been killed. He valued truth.
"I told you before. I couldn't let you die." He paused, then added, "And I thought... maybe you could help me. Someday. If you survived."
Xu Tie stared at him for a long moment, then laughed—a dry, humorless sound that turned into a wince of pain.
"Honest. Good. I prefer honest men." He closed his eyes again. "I was a soldier for fifteen years. Fought in the Northern Campaigns, the Western Rebellions. I've killed men, lost friends, seen things that would turn your hair white. And after all that... I end up in a ditch, saved by a boy who wants something from me."
"I don't want anything you're not willing to give."
"We'll see." Xu Tie opened his eyes again, and this time, there was something different in his gaze—respect, perhaps, or at least the beginning of it. "You saved my life. That's a debt. I pay my debts. But first, I need to heal. And then... we'll talk about what I can do for a farmer's son who dreams of... what? Goats? Sheep?"
"Actually, yes. Goats and sheep. And cattle, someday. A ranch."
"A ranch." Xu Tie repeated the word slowly, as if tasting it. "I've seen the grasslands of the north. Endless fields, thousands of horses, herds of cattle stretching to the horizon. That's ranching. Here, in this crowded, cultivated land... what do you have? Mud and millet?"
"I have ambition. And I have knowledge—or the beginning of it. What I lack is strength, skill, and allies."
"Allies." The soldier smiled, a thin expression that didn't reach his eyes. "You're building alliances. At eighteen. In a mud-brick house. With a wounded soldier as your first recruit."
"Is that foolish?"
"Maybe. Or maybe it's the most sensible thing I've heard in years." He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Help me sit up straighter. And get me some water. If I'm going to be in debt to a farmer, I might as well start earning my keep."
Chen Yuan smiled, helping the man adjust his position and fetching a cup of water.
*It's a beginning*, he thought. *A small beginning. But a beginning nonetheless.*
---
That night, after the household had settled and the lanterns were dimmed, Chen Yuan lay on his kang and stared at the ceiling.
His body ached from the day's work—the fields in the morning, the walking, the unexpected exertion with the sheep. But his mind was alert, racing with possibilities.
**[System Update: Host has successfully treated first case of livestock illness. Reputation increase: Minor. Village opinion has shifted slightly in Host's favor. Recommendation: Continue to demonstrate veterinary competence to build credibility and income.]**
*System, what other common livestock problems might I encounter in this region?*
**[Common issues: Parasitic infections (internal and external), hoof rot, mastitis in milking animals, birthing complications, nutritional deficiencies, respiratory infections. Knowledge of diagnosis and treatment is available. Equipment availability will be a limiting factor.]**
*Equipment. Right. I need to start making a list. Things to buy, things to make.*
*First: basic medical supplies. Clean cloth, needles, thread for sutures, a sharp knife for emergency procedures, oil for bloat treatment.*
*Second: knowledge. I need to learn more about local plants that can be used as medicine. The System has information, but I need to match it to what grows in this region.*
*Third: money. All of this costs money. And I have...*
He mentally counted his savings. 23 copper coins, plus the value of the eggs and honey he had received from Auntie Wang. Maybe 40 coins in total, if he sold the honey.
*Not enough. Not nearly enough.*
*But it's a start.*
*Tomorrow, I'll talk to the village chief about the stranger. I need to register Xu Tie's presence, make sure there are no legal issues. And I'll ask around about other sick animals. If I can build a reputation as someone who can treat livestock...*
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
"Yuan? Are you asleep?"
It was Little Ming's voice, hesitant and quiet.
"Come in."
The door creaked open, and his younger brother slipped inside, closing the door behind him. In the dim light, Chen Yuan could see that the boy was clutching something to his chest—a book, its cover worn and stained.
"Third Brother, I need to ask you something."
"What is it?"
Little Ming sat on the edge of the kang, his expression serious. "Today, when you were gone, I went to the village school. Teacher Liu was teaching the older boys—preparing them for the county exams. I stood outside and listened. They were discussing the Analects, and the meaning of a passage about governance."
"And?"
"I understood it. All of it. Better than the boys who were actually in the class." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Third Brother, I want to take the exams. I know we don't have money. I know it's a dream. But... I feel like I'm meant for something more than digging in the dirt. Is that wrong?"
Chen Yuan sat up, reaching out to rest a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"It's not wrong, Little Ming. It's exactly what you should feel. You have a gift, and you should use it."
"But the money—the tutors, the books, the travel—"
"Leave the money to me. I'll find a way. You focus on studying. Every day, learn something new. Practice writing, even if it's just in the dirt. Read every book you can get your hands on, even if it's an old merchant's ledger."
Little Ming's eyes glistened. "You really think I can do it? Pass the exams? Become a scholar?"
"I don't just think it. I know it. And when you do, you'll lift this whole family out of poverty. You'll change everything for us."
The boy nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I won't let you down, Third Brother. I'll work harder than anyone. I'll make you proud."
"You already make me proud."
Little Ming smiled, then stood and headed for the door. At the threshold, he paused.
"Third Brother? Thank you. For believing in me."
"Always, Little Ming. Always."
After his brother left, Chen Yuan lay back down, a new determination burning in his chest.
*For him*, he thought. *For Little Ming, for the family, for everyone counting on me... I will find a way.*
*The ranch will succeed. The money will come. And when it does, my brother will become the scholar he's meant to be.*
He closed his eyes, and for the first time since his rebirth, he fell asleep not with anxiety, but with hope.