The celebration dinner for Little Ming's success was modest by town standards—a few extra dishes of salted fish and a rare treat of roasted peanuts—but to the Chen family, it felt like a banquet.
The lacquered box containing the "Four Treasures of the Study" sat on the high shelf in the main room, wrapped in a clean red cloth. It wasn't just a prize; it was a trophy. A declaration that the Chen family could produce scholars just as well as they produced crops.
"Second place," Grandfather murmured, taking a sip of the warm rice wine. He looked at Little Ming, who was eating with his head down, trying to hide his smile. "Second in the whole district. Not bad for a mud-footed boy."
"The Magistrate liked the poem about the ox," Chen Yuan said, tearing a piece of flatbread. "He said it had 'grit'."
"Grit," Wang Shi scoffed from the kitchen, though she was smiling as she ladled out the porridge. "That's just a fancy word for stubbornness. He gets that from his father."
"And his brother," Father added, raising his cup to Chen Yuan. "Without your planning, and your... special grass... there would be no ox to write about."
The atmosphere was warm, but the shadow of Steward Liu's threat lingered in Chen Yuan's mind. He had mentioned it only to Xu Tie. There was no need to spoil the dinner with talk of wolves and sabotage.
"I need to check the boundaries tomorrow," Chen Yuan said, his tone shifting to business. "With the thaw coming, the snow will melt. The markers we set in winter might shift."
"The stakes are deep," Chen Hu said. "They won't move."
"The earth moves when it gets wet," Chen Yuan countered. "And Steward Liu is watching. I want to be sure our land stays our land."
---
The next morning, the world was melting.
The temperature had risen overnight, a sudden, dramatic shift that turned the crisp white landscape into a grey, slushy mess. The sound of dripping water was everywhere—falling from eaves, running down furrows, trickling through the gullies.
Chen Yuan pulled on his high boots—the ones he had reinforced with oilcloth—and headed to the Wasteland.
The transformation was jarring. What had been a frozen, solid plain was now a treacherous bog. The path was slick with mud that clung to his boots like lead weights.
Xu Tie was already there, standing on a raised mound of earth near the gate. He looked worried.
"The drainage ditch is backing up," the soldier said, pointing to the main trench. "The ice dammed the outlet. If we don't clear it, the lower paddock will flood. The shelter will be sitting in a foot of water."
"The calf," Chen Yuan said instantly. Hope was due in late summer, but stress was bad at any stage.
They grabbed shovels and ran to the outlet where the creek bent. A massive chunk of ice and debris had lodged against a fallen tree, blocking the flow. Water was backing up, spilling over the banks and creeping toward the lean-to.
"Break it," Chen Yuan ordered.
They hacked at the ice with mattocks, the spray soaking their clothes. It was cold, miserable work. The mud sucked at their feet, threatening to pull off their boots with every step.
Finally, with a groan of cracking ice, the blockage gave way. The water surged forward, rushing down the channel, draining the paddock.
Chen Yuan leaned on his shovel, panting. He looked at the shelter. The water level had dropped, leaving a ring of wet mud around the foundation.
"We need to raise the floor," Chen Yuan said, wiping muck from his face. "Before the spring rains. If this happens again when the calf is born..."
"I'll start hauling stones from the river," Xu Tie said. "We can build a platform."
"Good."
Chen Yuan waded through the mud to the shelter. The animals were huddled on the dry patches of straw.
"Morning, ladies."
He approached Hope's stall. The Yellow Cow was looking better every day. Her coat had a sheen to it now, and the ribs were barely visible.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dried apple slice—a treat. She took it gently from his palm.
*System, check status.*
**[Subject: 'Hope' (Yellow Cow).]**
**[Status: Pregnant. Confirmed.]**
**[Gestation: 45 days.]**
**[Fetal Development: Normal.]**
**[Note: Subject is showing early signs of 'Quickening'. Fetal movement detectable by palpation.]**
Chen Yuan's breath hitched. *Confirmed.*
He placed a hand on her lower right flank, just in front of her udder. He pressed gently, waiting.
For a moment, nothing. Just the rhythm of her breathing and the sound of the wind.
Then... a flutter. A tiny, distinct push against his hand.
It wasn't gas. It wasn't digestion. It was life.
A wave of emotion hit Chen Yuan—relief, joy, and a terrifying sense of responsibility. The deal had worked. The seed was planted.
"She's pregnant," Chen Yuan said aloud, turning to Xu Tie.
The soldier stopped sharpening a stake. He looked at the cow, then gave a curt nod. "Good. That means the investment is solid."
It was a soldier's response, but Chen Yuan saw the glint of relief in Xu Tie's eyes. They hadn't failed. The miracle had taken root.
---
The relief was short-lived.
Two days later, as the mud continued to deepen, a visitor arrived at the Wasteland.
It wasn't a villager, and it wasn't the broker.
It was a man in a grey uniform, carrying a measuring pole and a wooden case. He stood by the gate, looking at the muddy enclosure with a wrinkled nose.
"Chen Yuan?" the man asked.
"Who's asking?"
"I am Surveyor Zhang, from the County Land Office. I have a request to verify the boundaries of this plot."
Chen Yuan's blood ran cold. "Verify? We signed a lease. It's registered with the Chief."
"True," Surveyor Zhang said, pulling out a scroll. "However, a dispute has been filed regarding the water rights of the adjacent stream. The Liu family claims that your drainage ditch is diverting water from their downstream fields."
"Diverting?" Chen Yuan laughed in disbelief. "We're draining a swamp! The water goes *into* the stream, not away from it!"
"Be that as it may," the surveyor said blandly, "I must measure the boundary lines as they were originally drawn. The Liu family representative is here to observe."
Chen Yuan looked past the surveyor. Standing near the road, hands tucked into his sleeves, was Steward Liu. He wasn't smiling; he just watched with cold, patient eyes.
*This is the move,* Chen Yuan realized. *Legal harassment. He's using the bureaucracy to strangle us.*
"Go ahead," Chen Yuan said, forcing his voice to be calm. "Measure. You'll find the stakes are exactly where they should be."
Surveyor Zhang nodded and began his work. He walked the perimeter, checking the landmarks—the old willow tree, the bend in the river, the large rock.
Chen Yuan followed him, step by step. Xu Tie stood by the gate, his arms crossed, watching Steward Liu.
For an hour, they measured. The mud sucked at their boots. The wind bit at their ears.
Finally, the surveyor rolled up his scroll.
"The boundary markers are correct," he announced. "The plot is 5.2 acres."
"5.2?" Chen Yuan frowned. "The Chief said 5.0."
"A minor discrepancy in the old records," the surveyor shrugged. "It is within the margin of error. The lease holds."
"Good," Chen Yuan said loudly, glaring at Steward Liu. "So the dispute is baseless?"
"Regarding the boundaries, yes," the surveyor said. "But regarding the water rights... that is for the Magistrate to decide. You will receive a summons to appear before the court in ten days."
"A court summons?" Chen Yuan clenched his fists. "For draining my own land?"
"Water is communal property in the Great Qian Dynasty," the surveyor said. "If the Liu family claims you are altering the flow, you must defend yourself. It is the law."
He turned and walked back toward the road.
Steward Liu stepped forward. He didn't speak to Chen Yuan. He just looked at the drainage ditch, then at the lean-to.
"Messy," Liu said softly. "Very messy. I wonder how you will find the time to build a ranch when you are constantly running to the courthouse?"
He chuckled and turned to leave.
Chen Yuan watched him go. His chest burned with anger.
*Bureaucracy.* The weapon of the powerful against the poor. A lawsuit cost money. It cost time. It required a lawyer, or at least someone who knew the law.
"Little Ming," Chen Yuan whispered.
He couldn't do this alone. He needed knowledge.
---
That evening, the family gathered in the main room. The mood was grim.
"They are dragging us to court?" Wang Shi asked, her voice rising. "But we did nothing wrong!"
"That's the point," Chen Yuan said. "They don't need to be right. They just need to make us bleed. If we have to hire a lawyer in town, it will cost three taels. If we miss the farming days to go to court, we lose the harvest. They want us to give up."
"We won't give up," Father said, slamming his hand on the table. "We will go to the court. We will tell the truth."
"The Magistrate is a busy man," Chen Yuan said. "He won't listen to a rambling farmer. We need to present a case. A proper defense."
He looked at Little Ming.
"Ming. You are studying the law, aren't you? The commentaries?"
Little Ming looked up, startled. "I... I read the *Code of the Great Qian*. But I'm not a lawyer, Brother. I'm just a student."
"You know more than us," Chen Yuan said. "You know how to write. You know the format. Can you... can you draft a defense? A statement?"
Little Ming swallowed hard. He looked at the brushes on the shelf—the prize he had just won.
"I can try," he said, his voice trembling. "The Magistrate... he likes plain speech. He liked my poem. If I write the defense... simply..."
"Do it," Chen Yuan said. "Write it as if you were writing a poem. About the truth of the water. About the land."
He turned to the rest of the family.
"We have ten days. We need to prepare the ranch for the spring planting, AND we need to prepare for court. I need the whole family. We gather evidence. We interview the neighbors about the stream's flow. We document everything."
"This is war," Xu Tie said.
"No," Chen Yuan corrected. "This is a siege. And we are the ones with the walls."
---
The next week was a frenzy of preparation.
During the day, Chen Yuan and Xu Tie worked on the ranch. They hauled stones from the riverbed to pave the floor of the shelter, creating a dry platform for the animals. They reinforced the drainage ditch with branches and mud, making sure the water flowed clear and strong, proving it wasn't silting up the stream.
At night, by the light of the oil lamp, Little Ming wrote.
He drafted, scratched out, and rewrote. He consulted the scroll Teacher Liu had given him. He looked up precedents regarding water rights in the district.
Chen Yuan watched him work. The boy was stressed, dark circles under his eyes, but there was a new maturity in his face. He wasn't just studying for a test anymore. He was fighting for his family.
On the ninth night, Little Ming put down the brush.
"It's done," he said, exhaling.
Chen Yuan picked up the paper. It was a formal petition, written in the elegant, controlled hand Little Ming had been practicing.
*Petition regarding the Drainage of the Wasteland Plot 4, Willow Creek.*
*To the Honorable Magistrate Li:*
*The plaintiff claims the water is stolen. The truth is, the water was wasted.*
*For twenty years, the Wasteland was a sponge. It held the rain, breeding mosquitoes and rot. The stream below ran dry in summer because the swamp drank it. Now, the ditch releases the water, regulated and clean. The stream runs fuller, not emptier.*
*The Liu family plants mulberries. Mulberries hate wet feet. They wish to drain their own land, but the slope favors us. They do not seek water; they seek to remove a neighbor who has turned a swamp into a field.*
*We ask for an inspection. Let the bailiff see the water. Let him see the fish returning to the stream.*
*Respectfully submitted,*
*Chen Ming, on behalf of the Chen Family.*
"It's good," Chen Yuan said, reading the last line. "The bit about the fish. That's clever."
"The Code says a healthy stream supports life," Little Ming said. "If the water is stagnant, it's a violation. If it flows, it's an asset. I gambled that the Magistrate cares about the 'health' of his domain."
"He does," Chen Yuan smiled. "He's a man who likes 'grit' and 'truth'. He'll like this."
He rolled up the petition.
"Tomorrow, we go to town. Let's see if Steward Liu likes the taste of his own medicine."