The morning mist clinging to the Wasteland was thick, turning the world into a grey, formless void. Chen Yuan stood knee-deep in mud, shivering slightly in his thin hemp jacket. In his hands, he held a clay bowl filled with dark, wet seeds—the primed ryegrass.
"Ready?" Xu Tie's voice was a low rumble beside him. The soldier held a hoe, his knuckles white around the handle. Despite his recovering strength, he looked like a man ready to go into battle, not plant grass.
"Ready," Chen Yuan said.
He knelt by the first raised bed they had dug the day before. The soil was heavy clay, but the drainage trenches seemed to be working—the surface was damp, not flooded. He took a pinch of seeds and scattered them carefully, trying to mimic the density the System had recommended.
**[Procedure: Broadcasting. Optimal density: 25kg per hectare. Current seed count insufficient for optimal density. Adjusting strategy: Spot planting in high-probability zones.]**
*Spot planting. Right.* He couldn't just throw them around. He had to make every seed count.
He changed his method. Instead of scattering, he used his finger to poke small holes, two inches deep, dropping three seeds into each before covering them with a mixture of soil and wood ash.
"Squatting in the mud like a frog," Xu Tie observed dryly. "Is this the ancient wisdom of the ranchers?"
"This is precision agriculture," Chen Yuan muttered, not looking up. "And if you make fun of me, I'll make you carry the water buckets."
"I am carrying the water buckets," Xu Tie pointed at the two large wooden pails sitting near the creek. "I've been carrying them since dawn. My back is screaming, and my ribs are singing harmony."
"Then stop talking and save your breath for carrying."
They worked in silence for the next hour. The sun began to burn off the mist, revealing the ragged outline of their fence and the lean-to shelter. Nanny 01, their sole investment, watched them from her tether with an air of supreme indifference, chewing on a mouthful of thistles.
By the time Chen Yuan finished planting the last of the seeds, his back felt like it had been beaten with a club. He stood up, wincing as his spine cracked.
"That's it," he said, wiping his muddy hands on his pants. "Now we wait."
"Water them," Xu Tie said, grabbing a bucket. "And pray to whatever god listens to grass."
As the soldier poured water gently over the beds, careful not to wash the seeds away, Chen Yuan turned his attention to the goat. His mind raced through the list of problems. The debt. The books. The feed.
*I need to speed this up.*
He walked over to Nanny 01. She was pregnant. That meant she needed high-quality nutrition to ensure the kid was healthy. But she also represented a potential source of immediate income.
*Milk.*
The thought hit him. In his past life, goat milk was a niche product, often selling for a premium due to its nutritional value. It was easier to digest than cow milk for many people.
He crouched beside her, examining her udder. It was swollen, tight.
*Wait. If she's pregnant, she shouldn't be producing milk yet. Not significantly.*
**[System Analysis: Subject 'Nanny 01' is in early lactation stage. Current Status: Producing colostrum (low volume, high nutrient). Standard milk production will commence in 2-3 weeks, provided nutrition is optimized. Current yield: Approx. 200ml/day.]**
200ml. Not much. But it was something.
"Xu Tie," Chen Yuan called out. "Do you have a cup? Or a bowl?"
"Why? Are you thirsty?"
"I'm going to milk her."
Xu Tie paused, lowering the bucket. "You're going to... milk the goat? Now?"
"She's producing. Might as well take it. Every drop counts."
He had never milked a goat before. He had seen it done in videos, and the original Chen Yuan had vague memories of helping neighbors with cows years ago. He approached the goat tentatively.
"Easy, girl. Easy."
Nanny 01 turned her head to look at him. She blinked. She seemed calm.
Chen Yuan reached under her, found a teat, and squeezed.
Nothing happened.
He adjusted his grip, trying to mimic the motion of closing the top of the teat with his thumb and forefinger before squeezing down.
*Squirt.*
A tiny stream of milk hit the mud. Not in the bowl.
"Try again," Xu Tie offered helpfully from the sidelines. "Maybe aim for the container next time."
"Thank you for your tactical advice."
It took ten minutes of fumbling, squinting, and getting kicked once (lightly, more of a warning tap) before Chen Yuan managed to get a small amount of thick, creamy liquid into the bowl. Perhaps half a cup.
"This is it?" Xu Tie peered into the bowl. "That's barely a swallow. You risked your life for that?"
"It's colostrum," Chen Yuan said, panting. "It's incredibly nutritious. Good for the immune system. But..." He looked at the meager amount. "It's not enough to sell. Not yet."
He stared at the white liquid. Another dead end. The grass would take weeks to establish. The milk was too little. The goat was too valuable to sell.
"Back to the mats," Chen Yuan said, frustrated. "I need to get more cattail leaves. I'll finish the roof, and then... I don't know."
"There is the town," Xu Tie said quietly.
Chen Yuan looked up. "What?"
"You need silver for the debt. You need books for the boy. We have copper, but the exchange rate in the village is robbery. We need to go to Qinghe Town. Exchange the copper, see the market. You can't build a ranch in a vacuum, Yuan. You need to know what things cost."
Chen Yuan hesitated. Going to town meant a day away from the fields and the ranch. But Xu Tie was right. They were operating blind.
"Can you handle things here alone?"
"I held a pass against three hundred barbarian horsemen for two days with a broken spear," Xu Tie said dryly. "I can watch a pregnant goat and some mud."
"Alright. I'll go to town tomorrow."
---
The journey to Qinghe Town took half a day on foot.
Chen Yuan walked with a group of villagers who were heading in to sell vegetables. He carried a small pouch containing the family's remaining copper coins—about fifty in total, scraped together from the bottom of the jar.
Qinghe Town was the administrative center of the region, a bustling hub surrounded by high stone walls. As they approached the gates, the rural quiet gave way to the chaotic hum of commerce. Carts creaked, merchants shouted, and the smell of roasting meat, manure, and coal smoke filled the air.
Chen Yuan paid the two-copper entrance fee at the gate, wincing at the cost. Inside, the streets were packed. He navigated through the crowd, looking for the money exchange.
He found it near the center of town: a small shop with a sign reading "Prosperity Exchange." Inside, a clerk with a greasy smile sat behind a iron grille.
"Exchange copper for silver," Chen Yuan said, placing his pouch on the counter.
The clerk didn't even count it. He hefted the pouch, then poured the coins out onto a scale. "Forty-eight coins after the entrance fee deduction."
"I want silver."
"Current rate is 1,100 copper to one tael of silver." The clerk quickly calculated. "You have... hmm. Not enough for a full tael. I can give you... let's see... a small fragment. Or store credit?"
The official rate was supposed to be 1,000 to one. The markup was brutal.
"Just give me the silver," Chen Yuan said.
The clerk slid a tiny, jagged shard of silver across the counter, weighing it on a small brass scale. "There. Three-tenths of a tael."
Chen Yuan pocketed the silver. It felt heavy, cold, and utterly insufficient.
Next, he headed to the bookshop.
The "Scholar's Pavilion" was located on a quieter street, near the Confucian academy. It smelled of ink and old paper—a luxury smell. Inside, shelves were stacked with scrolls and bound books.
Chen Yuan walked through the aisles, feeling out of place in his muddy boots and rough clothes. A clerk in a clean blue robe glided over to him, blocking his path to the expensive section.
"Can I help you, villager? Looking for almanacs? We have a fine selection on crop rotation."
"I'm looking for a primer," Chen Yuan said, trying to sound confident. "*A Primer of Thousand Rhymes*. Or the *Book of Songs*."
The clerk's lip curled slightly. "The *Book of Songs*? A classic. We have a fine annotated edition. Three taels of silver."
Three taels. Ten times what he had in his pocket.
"And... used copies?"
"Used?" The clerk looked him up and down. "We have a damaged bin in the back. Copies with missing pages or water damage. But even those are not cheap."
Chen Yuan went to the back. He rifled through the pile of battered books. Most were illegible. Finally, he found a copy of the *Thousand Rhymes*. It was water-stained, the cover was torn, and the first three pages were missing.
"How much for this?"
"Four hundred copper coins," the clerk said, bored now.
Four hundred. Chen Yuan touched the pouch at his waist. He had exchanged fifty coins. He had nothing.
"I'll come back," he mumbled, putting the book down.
He left the shop, the taste of failure bitter in his mouth. The town was a different world. Here, knowledge was a commodity, priced just out of reach of the common man.
*No wonder the gap between rich and poor is so wide,* he thought. *It's not just land. It's information.*
He wandered through the streets, his mind churning. He needed a way to make money *here*, in the town, where the prices were. Selling vegetables at the gate wouldn't make him enough for a book, let alone the debt.
As he passed a large, ornate building, the smell of roasting meat wafted out, making his stomach growl. It was a restaurant—"The Jade Garden." Through the open windows, he could see men in silk robes laughing, drinking wine, eating plates of glistening meat.
He stopped. He watched a waiter carry a platter out to a table. It was beef. Sliced thin, braised in soy sauce.
**[Market Analysis: Beef is a luxury commodity in Great Qian Dynasty. Due to agricultural reliance on oxen, slaughter of draft animals is restricted but consumption by the wealthy is high. Supply chain: Unstable.]**
*Unstable supply.*
Chen Yuan thought of Nanny 01. She was a goat. But the principle was the same. The wealthy wanted meat. Good meat. And the current supply was likely low-quality, tough animals slaughtered at the end of their working lives.
If he could provide high-quality meat... tender, well-marbled...
*That's the future,* he thought. *But that's years away. What about now?*
He looked down at his hands. Still dirty. Still empty.
He turned away from the restaurant, heading toward the market district to look for cheap tools or seed bags. As he walked, he passed a vendor selling herbal remedies. An old woman was arguing with the vendor about the quality of his dried roots.
"This *Angelica* is wilted! I need fresh roots for the soup! My grandson is pale!"
"Fresh is expensive, Mother. Dry lasts longer."
Chen Yuan paused. He looked at the wasteland plants he had walked past. The cattails. The thistles. The weeds.
*System, scan the local medicinal market.*
**[Data insufficient. However, certain wild grasses and roots in the Wasteland have minor medicinal properties. Cattail pollen is a coagulant. Thistle roots can be used for liver ailments. Value: Low to Moderate, depending on freshness.]**
It wasn't a goldmine, but it was a start.
He bought a cheap, woven bag from a street vendor—spending another three coppers—and headed back to the gate. He needed to get home. He needed to check the seeds.
---
The sun was setting by the time Chen Yuan returned to the Wasteland. He was exhausted, footsore, and discouraged. The town had shown him the sheer scale of the mountain he had to climb.
He walked through the thorny gate of his plot. Xu Tie was sitting by the fire, roasting something on a stick.
"You're back," the soldier said. "Empty-handed?"
"I have silver," Chen Yuan said, dropping the pouch on the ground. "Barely enough to buy a chicken, let alone a book. And the money changers are thieves."
"The world is a thief," Xu Tie said philosophically. "Did you learn anything?"
"The rich eat well. The poor eat scraps. And books cost more than limbs." Chen Yuan sat down heavily on a log. "How was the goat?"
"Stubborn. She broke the tether twice. I had to chase her through the mud." Xu Tie pointed to the lean-to. "But she's fine. And..."
Xu Tie's voice changed. He sounded... impressed.
"And?"
"I watered the beds. Like you said. Three times. I checked on them just before you came."
Chen Yuan's heart skipped a beat. He stood up. "Show me."
They walked to the raised beds near the creek. The light was fading, but it was enough to see.
In the first bed, the one where Chen Yuan had planted the primed seeds with ash, tiny green shoots were piercing the soil. They were small, barely visible, standing like fragile hairs against the dark earth. But they were there.
In the second bed—the control batch, planted without ash or priming—nothing.
Chen Yuan fell to his knees in the mud. He leaned in close, afraid to touch them, afraid to breathe on them.
**[System Update: Germination Confirmed. Species: Ryegrass (Optimized). Status: Healthy. Growth Phase 1 initiated. Estimated time to maturity: 4 weeks (Accelerated).]**
Four weeks.
"It worked," Chen Yuan whispered. "It actually worked."
"Your witchcraft," Xu Tie said, standing over him. "The ash. The soaking. It worked."
Chen Yuan laughed. It was a hoarse, cracked sound, but it was full of relief. He had failed to get the book. He had failed to get the money. But he had made grass grow.
In a ranch, grass was life. Grass meant feed. Feed meant milk. Milk meant money.
"It's just the beginning," Chen Yuan said, wiping his eyes. "But it's real. We have a pasture starting."
He looked at the shoots, then at the goat, then at the soldier.
"We need more seeds. We need to expand. This..." He gestured to the small patch. "This is a garden. We need a field."
"One step at a time, Rancher," Xu Tie said, offering a hand to pull him up. "You walked to town and back today. You didn't eat. You're swaying."
"I'm fine."
"You're not. Come. Sit by the fire. I have a surprise."
Chen Yuan followed him back to the lean-to. Xu Tie handed him the stick he had been roasting earlier. It was a fish—a small carp, roasted in the coals, scales and all.
"Caught it in the creek while the goat was sleeping," Xu Tie said. "It's not much, but it's protein."
Chen Yuan took the fish. It was hot and smoky. He broke it open, the white flesh steaming.
"Thank you, Xu Tie."
"Eat. Then sleep. Tomorrow, we figure out how to turn those green needles into silver."
Chen Yuan ate the fish, picking the bones from his teeth, watching the fire dance. The town had been a crushing reality check. But here, in the mud, with the green shoots pushing through the earth, hope felt a little more substantial.
He touched the small shard of silver in his pocket.
*Three-tenths of a tael,* he thought. *I need thirty times this amount.*
He looked at the seeds again.
*Grow fast, little ones. We're counting on you.