Spring in the Great Qian Dynasty wasn't just a season; it was a race.
The soil dried, the buds burst, and the pace of life accelerated until it felt like everyone was running. For the Chen family, the arrival of April meant the "Spring Rush."
The South Pasture, cleared and seeded just weeks ago, was already showing signs of life. The ryegrass, boosted by the System's optimized pH balance and the heavy winter snowmelt, had sprouted into a sea of vibrant, emerald spikes.
Chen Yuan stood at the edge of the new paddock, leaning on the fence he had helped build. He watched Zhang Dahu and his brothers moving the temporary electric fence—well, not electric, but "spirit fence" as the villagers called it. It was a simple innovation: two strands of rough hemp rope soaked in a pungent herbal mixture (chili oil and wolf urine) that the System had suggested. Animals wouldn't touch it, and it was far cheaper than wood.
"Shift the line ten paces to the left!" Chen Yuan shouted. "Let the back section rest!"
"Got it, Boss!" Dahu waved back. He was wearing his new "Rancher Boots," stomping through the mud that would have sucked a cloth shoe right off his foot. The boots had become a status symbol among the workers. They were ugly, scarred, and stained with grease, but they were dry.
The ranch was functioning. The rhythm of rotational grazing was established. The herd—now comfortably settled into the new corral—was thriving.
But something was missing.
Chen Yuan looked at his feet. He was walking. Always walking.
In his previous life, a rancher on foot was a joke. A cowboy needed height. He needed speed. He needed a horse.
*Xu Tie was right,* Chen Yuan thought. *We are fighting with one hand tied behind our backs. We need mobility.*
With the war in the West heating up, horses were worth their weight in silver. The army procurement officers were scouring the countryside, buying every sound mare and gelding they could find.
*Normal channels are closed,* Chen Yuan mused. *I can't buy a horse. But maybe... I can save one.*
---
The Qinghe Town Army Depot was located just outside the North Gate. It was a sprawling encampment of tents, wagons, and corrals, buzzing with the chaos of mobilization.
Chen Yuan walked past the lines of conscripts waiting for their assignments. He was wearing his best clothes (relatively speaking) and carrying a heavy sack over his shoulder.
He approached the main gate, where a Sergeant sat at a table, checking manifests.
"Stop. Civilian access prohibited," the Sergeant barked without looking up.
"I'm here to see Quartermaster Zhao," Chen Yuan said. "I have a delivery. 'Rancher Boots'. High-quality leather. For the officers."
The Sergeant looked up, interested. "Boots?"
Chen Yuan set the sack down. He pulled out a pair. They weren't the rough work boots he gave the laborers. These were polished, oiled with mutton fat to a dark sheen, and stitched with a double-reinforced heel. He had stayed up all night making them.
"Size 9. Good for walking or riding," Chen Yuan said. "I heard the Quartermaster was looking for gear that doesn't fall apart in a week."
The Sergeant grabbed the boot, squeezing the leather. "Good stuff. Wait here."
Ten minutes later, Chen Yuan was ushered into a tent filled with maps and the smell of ink.
Quartermaster Zhao was a thin, harried man with ink-stained fingers and a permanent scowl. He looked at the boots Chen Yuan had laid out.
"Five taels," Chen Yuan said. "For the two pairs. A bargain for officer-grade gear."
"I'll give you three," Zhao countered, rubbing his temples. "And that's generous. The army pays in script, not silver, half the time."
"Silver," Chen Yuan insisted. "But I'll take two taels silver... and a trade."
Zhao looked up, suspicious. "A trade? What do you want? Grain? Salt?"
"A horse."
Zhao laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "A horse? Boy, look around you. We're preparing for a campaign. Every horse within fifty miles is being drafted. I can't spare a sway-backed mule, let alone a horse."
"I don't want a warhorse," Chen Yuan said. "I heard you have a 'problem' pen. Animals that failed the cavalry inspection. Culls. I'll take one of those."
Zhao paused. His eyes narrowed. "The culls? You mean the injured ones? The man-killers?"
"I mean the ones that are eating your hay but can't carry a soldier," Chen Yuan said. "Let me see them. If I can handle one, you sell it to me for a low price. You get your boots, you save on feed, and you clear your books."
Zhao hesitated, then shrugged. "Fine. But if you get your skull kicked in, it's not my fault. Sergeant! Take him to the 'Junkyard'!"
---
The "Junkyard" was a pen at the far back of the depot, away from the valuable stock.
It was a sad place. Inside were three animals.
One was an old gray mare with a lame leg, breathing heavily. The second was a young colt that looked underfed and sickly.
The third...
The third was a demon.
It was a chestnut mare, medium-sized, with a coat the color of polished copper. She stood in the corner, ears pinned back, teeth bared. A rope halter was embedded in her mane, but no one was holding it. She kicked the rails of the fence, splintering the wood.
"Careful," the Sergeant warned, stepping back. "We call her 'The Red Witch'. Captured from a bandit camp. She threw three riders in a row. Kicked a groom's arm last week. She's fast, strong, and completely crazy. We were going to put her down tomorrow."
Chen Yuan stared at the horse. She was wild, yes. But she wasn't sick.
**[System Analysis: Species: Equus ferus caballus (Horse).]**
**[Breed: Mixed steppe pony (High stamina).]**
**[Age: 5 years.]**
**[Status: High stress. Trust trauma.]**
**[Physical: Perfect conformation. Minor scarring on withers from ill-fitting tack.]**
*Trust trauma.*
"She's not crazy," Chen Yuan said softly. "She's been hurt."
He walked to the fence.
"Oi! Don't go in there!" the Sergeant yelled.
Chen Yuan ignored him. He opened the gate and stepped inside.
The Red Witch spun around, her hindquarters facing him, ready to strike.
Chen Yuan stopped. He didn't look her in the eye—that was a challenge. He dropped his gaze. He turned his shoulder to her, making himself small. Non-threatening.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured. "And I'm not going to ride you. Not yet."
The horse snorted, her hooves shifting in the dirt. She kicked out—a warning shot that missed Chen Yuan's leg by an inch.
Chen Yuan didn't flinch. He didn't back away. He just stood there, breathing slowly.
*System, assist.*
**[Engaging Pheromone Calming Projection.]**
**[Technique: Passive Approach.]**
He slowly reached into his pocket. The horse tensed. He pulled out an apple—a fresh, green apple he had bought on the way.
He didn't offer it. He just set it on the ground, about ten feet away from her. Then he took a step back.
"Eat," he said. "You're hungry."
The horse stared at him. Then at the apple. She pawed the ground, snorting. Finally, her hunger won out. She moved sideways, keeping her eye on him, and snatched the apple up. She crunched it loudly.
"Good," Chen Yuan whispered.
He took another step back. And another. He didn't try to touch her. He just stood in the pen with her for ten minutes, existing in her space without being a threat.
When he finally turned to leave, she didn't try to kick him. She just watched him go, her ears flicking forward slightly.
He walked out of the pen and locked the gate.
"I'll take her," Chen Yuan told the stunned Sergeant.
"Are you mad?" the Sergeant asked. "She'll kill you."
"She's scared," Chen Yuan said. "I can use scared. Quartermaster Zhao! I have a deal."
---
The negotiation was short. Zhao was happy to be rid of the liability. He took the boots, gave Chen Yuan two taels of silver, and signed a release form for "One Chestnut Mare, Unsound."
Chen Yuan didn't have a saddle. He didn't have a bridle. He had a length of rope and a lot of nerve.
He entered the pen again. The Red Witch was calmer now, having eaten the apple. She watched him warily.
Chen Yuan approached her side. He didn't go for her head. He touched her shoulder, high up on the withers.
She flinched, her skin rippling. She tried to bite, but Chen Yuan was already moving, circling her, applying pressure and release—the basics of the "join up" technique.
*Move her feet. Control the direction. Show dominance without pain.*
It took an hour. Sweat soaked Chen Yuan's shirt. His arms ached from holding the rope. But finally, finally, the mare dropped her head. She chewed her lip. She stopped trying to kick.
She was submitting.
Chen Yuan stepped up to her side. He laid the rope over her neck. She trembled, but she stood still.
"Good girl," he whispered.
He didn't try to mount her. That would be suicide. He simply clipped a lead rope to the makeshift halter she was still wearing.
"We're going for a walk," he told her. "To your new home."
---
The walk back to Willow Creek was a parade of humiliation and triumph.
Chen Yuan walked. The Red Witch walked behind him.
Every time a cart passed, she would shy, dancing sideways, nearly pulling Chen Yuan's arm out of the socket. Villagers coming back from the market scattered when they saw the wild look in her eye.
"Is that a devil beast?"
"It's the Chen boy! He's leading a monster!"
When they finally reached the Wasteland, the sun was setting.
Xu Tie was at the gate. He saw the horse. He saw the wild look in her eye. He drew his knife.
"Stand back!" Xu Tie shouted. "It's wild!"
"No!" Chen Yuan yelled, holding up a hand. "She's mine. She's the new horse."
"Yours?" Xu Tie lowered the knife, staring. "It looks like it wants to eat your face."
"She just needs a job," Chen Yuan said, panting.
He led the mare into the corral. He secured her in the small paddock he had prepared, away from the cows.
He filled a trough with water and fresh hay. He stood by the fence, watching her.
She drank greedily. Then she ate. Then, for the first time since arriving, she let out a long, shuddering breath and lay down in the straw.
Chen Yuan leaned his forehead against the fence rail.
"I'm going to call you 'Whirlwind'," he whispered. "Because you're going to turn this ranch upside down."
He turned to Xu Tie, who was still staring at the horse.
"I need a saddle," Chen Yuan said. "And a lot of patience. But we have a horse, Cousin. We finally have a horse."
Xu Tie looked at the horse, then at Chen Yuan. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face.
"You are a madman, Chen Yuan. A madman with a ranch."
---
That night, Chen Yuan didn't sleep much. He checked on the horse every few hours. She was standing again, watching him.
He checked on Hope. The cow was sleeping soundly.
He checked on the grass. It was growing.
He checked on Little Ming. The boy was asleep, the Law Code open on his chest.
Chen Yuan walked to the center of the Wasteland. The mud was drying. The fence was strong. The herd was growing.
He looked at his hands—calloused, dirty, steady.
*We have the land. We have the herd. We have the horse.*
*Now, we just need the cavalry.*
He smiled at the thought.
The Spring Rush was over. The Summer Expansion had begun.