The night was silent, save for the chirping of crickets and the distant murmur of the rushing spring water.
Inside the Wasteland corral, the animals slept. Hope lay with her head tucked, Little Iron standing guard nearby, his ears twitching in his sleep. The goats were huddled in the lean-to.
But at the gate, a predator was awake.
General, the massive Tibetan Mastiff cross, stood rigid on the flat stone Chen Yuan had designated as his post. He wasn't barking. He was barely breathing. His single yellow eye was fixed on the darkness beyond the thorn fence.
Chen Yuan and Xu Tie sat on upturned logs nearby, a small lantern casting a dim circle of light between them. They were playing a silent game of chess—pebbles on a board drawn in the dirt—to pass the watch.
"He's staring at the north ridge," Xu Tie whispered, moving a stone. "The wind is coming from there. He smells something."
"Wolves?" Chen Yuan asked, his hand hovering over his own stone.
"Wolves move in packs. They make noise. They harass. This... this is stillness."
Suddenly, General's lips curled back. A low, vibrating growl started in his chest, rising in pitch.
*Click.*
The sound was faint, almost swallowed by the wind. The creak of a wooden latch.
"The water pipe," Chen Yuan hissed.
Someone was at the intake valve on the hill.
General didn't wait for an order. He launched himself from the post, a black shadow tearing through the night.
"Go!" Chen Yuan shouted, snatching a torch from the brazier. He and Xu Tie sprinted toward the hill.
They scrambled up the muddy slope, following the sound of barking.
When they reached the spring head, the scene was chaotic.
Two men in dark clothes were grappling with the dog. One was on the ground, screaming, General's jaws locked around his calf. The other was beating the dog with a wooden club, trying to make him let go.
"Release!" the standing man shouted, panic cracking his voice.
"Police! Freeze!" Chen Yuan roared, using the ancient term for "Stop". He thrust the torch forward.
The standing man saw the glint of a sword at Xu Tie's hip. He kicked his companion once, hard, and bolted into the darkness.
The man on the ground howled. "Get it off! Get it off!"
"General, out!" Chen Yuan commanded.
The dog released the leg, stepping back. He stood over the man, hackles raised, blood dripping from his jowls.
Xu Tie reached down and yanked the man up by his collar. He shone the torch in the man's face. It was a stranger, dressed in rough traveling clothes.
"What were you doing?" Xu Tie demanded, shaking him.
The man whimpered, clutching his shredded leg. "Just... just water! We were thirsty!"
"Liar," Chen Yuan said coldly. He walked to the spring box. The stone cover had been pried open. But they hadn't been stealing water.
They had been stuffing dead rats into it.
Chen Yuan pulled the decaying carcasses out of the clean water supply. His stomach turned.
"Sabotage," he said, his voice deadly calm. "You were trying to poison the herd."
The man paled. "No... the steward... he said just to clog it..."
"Who?" Xu Tie pressed his thumb against a pressure point on the man's shoulder. The man screamed.
"Lin! The House of Lin! They said... break the pipe or poison the water... make the beef taste bad... anything to make you sell!"
Chen Yuan took a deep breath. The House of Lin. Steward Wu. The buyers he had rejected.
"Throw him out," Chen Yuan said. "Don't kill him. Drag him to the village gate. Let the Chief see what the 'Honorable House of Lin' does in the dark."
Xu Tie knocked the man out with a swift pommel strike to the head. He hoisted the unconscious body over his shoulder.
"Good dog," Chen Yuan said, scratching General's ears. The dog's chest heaved, but his tail gave a single, sturdy thump against the ground. "You earned your keep tonight."
---
The morning sun brought a weary sense of victory.
The water was flushed, the pipe cleared. General was treated like a hero, getting an extra portion of offal from the kitchen.
But the attempted sabotage left a bitter taste. The ranch was growing, and that made it a target.
"Security isn't enough," Chen Yuan said at breakfast. "We need to be untouchable. We need to be too valuable to touch."
"We are already supplying the army," Wang Shi said, pouring tea.
"We need to supply the *elite*," Chen Yuan corrected. "The common soldier eats tough beef. The general eats... something else."
He looked at the stack of hay.
"We also need to relax," he added, surprising the family. "We've been working since the thaw. The grass is growing. The water is fixed. Today... we rest."
"Rest?" Wang Shi's eyebrows shot up. "The weeds in the upper field—"
"Can wait one day. Pack the cart. We're going to the upper valley."
---
The upper valley was a hidden gem of the Wasteland property.
About a mile from the main corral, nestled between two forested ridges, was a flat, grassy clearing. A small, clear stream ran through it, and the ancient willow trees provided ample shade. It was far enough from the mud and the manure to feel like a different world.
Chen Yuan drove the cart, filled with the family, the workers, and even Grandmother (who sat on a pile of quilts). Black Mountain and Whirlwind followed behind, untethered, enjoying the walk.
General trotted alongside, occasionally chasing butterflies, looking less like a monster and more like a happy dog.
"This is nice," Little Ming's replacement—Chen Hu's son, Little Bao—chirped, running through the tall grass. "It smells like flowers!"
"It smells like money," Chen Hu laughed, but he was smiling.
They set up camp near the stream. This wasn't a work trip. It was a picnic.
Chen Yuan pulled out the grill he had fashioned from an iron grate and some stones. He built a fire using dry deadwood.
"Bring the meat," he ordered.
Today wasn't about boiled pork or plain stir-fry. Today was about the "Rancher's Feast."
He had prepared goat meat—specifically, the cuts from a young buck that had been culled for population control. He had marinated the chunks in soy sauce, wild garlic, ginger, and a splash of strong liquor.
"Skewers," he said, handing Dahu the metal rods.
They grilled the meat over the open flame. The smell was intoxicating. The fat sizzled and dripped, flaring the fire, coating the meat in a smoky char.
"Cumin," Chen Yuan sprinkled the rare, expensive spice he had bought from a western trader. "And chili powder."
He handed the first skewer to Grandmother.
"Taste."
The old woman took a tentative bite. Her eyes widened. She chewed vigorously.
"Spicy! Fragrant! Good!" she declared, smacking her lips. "This is better than the restaurant in town!"
Soon, everyone was eating. Skewer after skewer. The workers sat on the grass, gnawing on the bones, grease running down their chins. The children laughed, chasing each other with sticks.
Even Xu Tie relaxed, sitting on a rock, methodically cleaning a bone.
"This is good," Xu Tie admitted. "In the army, we ate dry biscuits. This... is life."
Chen Yuan leaned back against a tree, a skewer in one hand. He watched his family. Father was laughing at a joke Hu made. Mother was teaching the girls how to weave flower crowns.
The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, and for a few hours, the threat of the House of Lin and the pressure of the spring planting seemed a world away.
He pulled out a harmonica he had traded for in town—a cheap, bamboo one, but functional.
He blew a few experimental notes. It was a bit shrill, but he found the melody.
It was an old folk tune from his previous life, something about country roads and open skies. He played it slowly, adapting it to the pentatonic scale of this world.
The chatter died down. The family listened. The wind rustled the willows.
General sat up, ears pricked, listening to the strange, sad, sweet sound.
When he finished, there was a moment of silence.
"That was... pretty," Wang Shi said softly. "What is it called?"
"Home," Chen Yuan said.
"Home," she repeated. She looked at the green valley, the family, the food. "Yes. This is home."
---
The peace of the afternoon was broken by the sound of hooves.
Not a gallop, but a steady, official trot.
A rider in the blue and gold uniform of the Prefecture Courier Service entered the clearing. He looked out of breath.
"Chen Yuan?" he asked, looking at the group picnicking on the grass.
Chen Yuan stood up, wiping his hands. "I am he."
"Urgent dispatch. From the Prefecture Academy."
Chen Yuan's heart skipped a beat. *Ming.*
He took the letter. He broke the wax seal.
It was short.
*Brother,*
*I have won the 'Spring Oration'. Second place. The Magistrate himself commended my essay on 'The Governance of Water'. He asked me where I learned such practical wisdom. I told him: My brother is a Rancher.*
*The Director of the Academy has granted me a special privilege. I have been assigned a tutor for the summer, in preparation for the Provincial Exam.*
*I am sending this ahead. I am coming home for three days to fetch my summer clothes.*
*Also... I have a request. The Magistrate's son is a lover of horses. He heard you broke the 'Black Mountain' and the 'Red Witch'. He wishes to visit.*
*Prepare yourself.*
*Your brother,*
*Ming.*
Chen Yuan read the letter twice.
*Second place.* The ink had worked. The strategy had worked.
But then... the Magistrate's son.
He looked at Xu Tie.
"We have a visitor coming," Chen Yuan said. "A big one."
"The Magistrate's son?"
"And he wants to see the horses."
Chen Yuan looked at Black Mountain, grazing peacefully in the meadow.
"We just proved we can fight off thugs," Chen Yuan muttered. "Now we have to entertain the gentry."
He folded the letter.
"Alright everyone! Pack up! The vacation is over. We have a ranch to polish."
The family groaned good-naturedly but moved with energy. The news of Ming's success had energized them.
A scholar in the family. A Magistrate's son visiting. A guard dog that bit first and asked questions later.
The Wasteland was waking up. And everyone wanted a piece of it.