Steady Grain ran out on the twelfth day.
Not suddenly.
Not dramatically.
It simply… wasn't there when people reached for it.
The cook stood in the storage room staring at the empty space where three sacks should have been. Her hands were still dusted with flour.
"Patriarch," she said carefully, "we'll have to switch back tomorrow."
Gu Hao nodded. "How much is left?"
"Enough for the clan," she replied. "Not enough for everyone else."
That distinction mattered.
Outside the gates, people were already waiting.
Not pushing.
Not shouting.
Just standing there with sacks and baskets, eyes hopeful and restrained. They had learned, quickly, that patience here was rewarded.
Gu Hao watched them from the wall.
On Earth, this was the moment businesses failed.
When demand outpaced structure, and goodwill was mistaken for supply.
The elders gathered before noon.
"This is dangerous," Gu Yuan said. "Scarcity breeds resentment."
Gu Hao agreed. "Unmanaged scarcity does."
"You should stop distributing to outsiders," another elder added. "At least until the next harvest."
"And tell them what?" Gu Hao asked. "That reliability was temporary?"
Silence.
Gu Hao folded his hands. "If we retreat now, Steady Grain becomes a rumor. Not a standard."
Gu Jian frowned. "We don't have enough to scale."
"No," Gu Hao said. "But we have enough to organize."
He didn't go back to the fields.
He went to the people.
Gu Hao stood outside the gates as the sun climbed higher. No guards flanking him. No platform.
Just a man in plain robes.
"There won't be enough today," he said, voice carrying clearly.
No outrage followed.
A few people lowered their heads. Someone sighed.
Gu Hao continued.
"So we'll change how it's given."
He pointed to the sacks stacked beside him.
"From today onward, Steady Grain will be distributed by household size," he said. "Fixed measure. No bargaining."
Murmurs spread.
"And in exchange," Gu Hao added, "those who receive it will register their households."
A man raised his hand hesitantly. "Why?"
"So we know who we're feeding," Gu Hao replied. "And who depends on it."
Some shifted uncomfortably.
"We won't tax you," Gu Hao said calmly. "We won't conscript you. And we won't force loyalty."
Then he paused.
"But we will remember you."
That did it.
People stepped forward.
Names were spoken.
Numbers recorded.
Simple marks pressed into clay tablets.
No contracts.
No seals.
Just acknowledgment.
That night, Gu Hao sat with the ledger open.
Households: 137
Average members: 4
Repeat visits: High
He drew a line down the page.
Demand is not chaos. It is information.
On Earth, data had been the first asset of every serious enterprise.
Here, it was no different.
Gu Jian watched him quietly. "You're binding them to us."
Gu Hao shook his head. "I'm recognizing them."
"That's the same thing," Gu Jian said.
Gu Hao met his gaze. "Only if we betray them later."
Near midnight, Gu Hao activated the simulator.
Fifty spirit stones.
Consent given.
[Legacy Simulation Complete]
Duration: 1 Year
Clan Status: Surviving
Population: 73 → 49
Positive Indicators:
Mortal Dependence Structured Internal Resource Efficiency Improved External Attention (Low)
Negative Indicators:
Supply Bottleneck (Rising)
Supply bottleneck.
Gu Hao nodded slowly.
That was fine.
Bottlenecks told you where to build next.
He closed the ledger and wrote one final note beneath the others:
Before expansion, there must be fairness.
Before fairness, there must be measurement.
Outside, people returned home with smaller portions than they wanted.
But they returned.
And tomorrow, they would come back again.
Because Steady Grain was no longer just food.
It was predictable.
And in a world ruled by uncertainty, predictability was worth more than abundance.
The ledger grew heavier.
Not in weight, but in meaning.
Gu Hao turned its pages slowly, fingers brushing over names, numbers, notes scribbled in the margins. Households from nearby hamlets filled the first sections. Simple needs. Predictable patterns.
Then came something new.
Locations.
"This one's from Shanfeng Town," Gu Jian said, pointing. "Two days away. Larger market."
Gu Hao paused. "They walked?"
"No," Gu Jian replied. "They hired a cart. Came quietly."
Gu Hao nodded.
That detail mattered.
People who hired carts were not starving.
They were choosing.
The visitors from Shanfeng Town arrived at noon.
Three men, clean robes, sturdy boots. Not cultivators, but not peasants either. They carried coin pouches, not baskets.
"We heard about Steady Grain," the tallest one said. "We want to buy."
Gu Hao studied them.
"You've eaten it?" he asked.
The man hesitated. "No."
"Then you can't buy it yet," Gu Hao said calmly.
Confusion rippled across their faces.
"We have silver," another said quickly. "Good silver."
Gu Hao shook his head. "Eat first. Decide later."
They left irritated.
They returned two days after that.
This time, they bowed.
"It keeps workers upright longer," the tall man admitted. "They don't complain as much. They finish the day."
Gu Hao listened.
No excitement.
No pride.
Just confirmation.
"And now?" Gu Hao asked.
"We want a steady supply," the man said carefully. "For our workshops."
Gu Hao leaned back.
"Steady Grain is for households," he said. "Not enterprises."
The men stiffened.
"But," Gu Hao continued, "we are experimenting with something else."
That night, Gu Hao sat alone, cooking again.
He adjusted the grain blend slightly. Reduced the softness. Increased density. Less comfort. More endurance.
Not better.
Different.
On Earth, he had learned that no single product served everyone.
The mistake was pretending it should.
He brought the new batch to the clan guards first.
"Eat this tomorrow," he said. "Tell me when you feel tired."
They did.
Later.
Much later.
Gu Hao noted it down.
This grain was not for children.
Not for the sick.
It was for labor.
The traders returned.
Gu Hao placed two bowls on the table.
"One is Steady Grain," he said. "The other is work grain."
The tall man tasted both.
His eyes widened slightly.
"This one," he said, pointing, "is harsher."
Gu Hao nodded. "It's not meant to be pleasant."
"And the price?" the man asked.
Gu Hao smiled faintly.
"For households," he said, "payment is flexible."
"For workshops," he continued, "payment is not."
The men exchanged glances.
"How much?" one asked.
Gu Hao named a price.
They didn't argue.
Gu Jian watched from the doorway.
"You're separating them," he said quietly. "Needs. Uses. Buyers."
Gu Hao nodded.
"Mortals are not one group," he said. "Neither is value."
That night, Gu Hao activated the simulator.
Fifty spirit stones.
Consent given.
[Legacy Simulation Complete]
Duration: 1 Year
Clan Status: Surviving
Population: 73 → 53
Positive Indicators:
Mortal Tier Differentiation External Wealth Accumulation (Low) Dependency Stability Increased
Negative Indicators:
Administrative Load (Rising)
Low wealth.
Gu Hao accepted that.
On Earth, the first profits were never large.
They were clean.
He wrote carefully in the ledger:
Feed the weak to build roots.
Serve the capable to build surplus.
Outside, workers from Shanfeng Town loaded sacks carefully, paying in coin and gratitude both.
Nearby, families cooked Steady Grain over low fires, children laughing softly as bowls emptied.
Two groups.
Two needs.
One source.
Gu Hao closed the ledger.
This was not charity.
And it was not exploitation.
It was the beginning of something durable.