The first egg was sold on the sixth day.
Not eaten—sold.
Lin Yan wrapped it carefully in cloth and handed it to his second brother. "Take this to the town market," he said. "Ask for a fair price. Don't argue."
His brother looked at the single egg, then at Lin Yan. "One egg?"
"Yes," Lin Yan replied. "One is enough."
By noon, the second brother returned, breathless.
"Three copper coins," he said, eyes wide. "For one egg."
The room went quiet.
Three copper wasn't much—but it was clean money. No debt. No borrowing. No interest.
That evening, the porridge was thicker.
Not because there was more grain—but because there was hope.
Lin Yan didn't celebrate. He went back to the pasture.
The grass had grown another finger's width. Still tender, still fragile—but alive.
Old Chen squatted nearby, chewing on a straw stem. "You're not stopping with chickens," the old man said.
Lin Yan shook his head. "Chickens are quick money. Not steady money."
Old Chen's eyes sharpened. "Then you're thinking of cattle."
Lin Yan didn't answer immediately. He looked toward the distant hills where scrub and wild grass grew unchecked.
"Cattle don't fear rough land," he said. "They turn useless grass into strength."
Old Chen let out a low hum. "You know cattle eat more than grass."
"That's why I'm growing better grass," Lin Yan replied.
That night, the system responded.
[Condition Met: Stable Pasture]
[Large Livestock Planning Unlocked]
[Recommended: Local Yellow Cattle (Starter)]
Lin Yan studied the interface carefully.
Local cattle were slow-growing, strong, and cheap. Not ideal—but suitable for a beginning.
He closed the system and made a note on a wooden slip.
No rushing. No shortcuts.
The next day, rumors spread.
"Third Son Lin wants to buy cattle."
"He thinks grass feeds oxen better than grain."
"He's gone mad—cattle eat fortunes."
Lin Yan heard it all while repairing the fence.
He didn't explain.
Instead, he invited people to look.
He walked villagers along the pasture edge, pointing out where grass was thicker, where soil held moisture, where chickens had fertilized the ground naturally.
"This grass costs nothing but patience," he said.
Some scoffed.
Some hesitated.
Old Chen spoke only once. "I've raised cattle my whole life. This land can support them."
That mattered more than ten explanations.
That evening, Lin Yan called a family meeting.
"We'll buy one calf," he said.
"One?" the eldest brother asked. "That's all?"
"One," Lin Yan repeated. "We don't gamble with hunger."
His mother frowned. "What if it dies?"
"Then we learn," Lin Yan said calmly. "And we don't repeat mistakes."
No one argued after that.
Two days later, they bought the calf.
A small, yellow-coated thing with thin legs and wary eyes.
It cost almost everything they had.
The village gathered to watch.
Someone whispered, "That calf won't last winter."
Lin Yan ignored them.
He led the calf slowly, letting it smell the grass, letting it choose its steps.
Old Chen nodded in approval. "You don't force animals," he said. "Good."
That night, Lin Yan slept lightly.
In his dream, he saw fields divided by fences. Cattle moving calmly. Horses running on open ground.
When he woke, the system chimed softly.
[Livestock Added: Yellow Cattle (1)]
[Bond Level: Low]
[Recommended: Gentle Handling]
Lin Yan smiled faintly.
The next morning, his youngest brother sat by the fence, watching the calf chew.
"Third Brother," the boy asked, "will it grow big?"
"Yes," Lin Yan said.
"How big?"
"Big enough to pull carts," Lin Yan replied. "And change our lives."
The boy thought for a moment, then nodded seriously.
"I'll study hard," he said. "Then I can write its name."
Lin Yan laughed quietly and ruffled his hair.
As the sun rose over the pasture, the calf lifted its head and mooed—soft, uncertain, but alive.
The sound carried across the fields.
For the first time, the Lin family's land answered back.