The road to town felt longer than usual.
Not because the distance had changed—but because Lin Yan was walking it with intent.
He left before sunrise, a woven basket of eggs on his back and Old Chen beside him, staff tapping lightly against the ground. The calf watched them go, ears flicking, as if sensing that something new was being considered.
"You're really thinking of horses now," Old Chen said after a while.
Lin Yan didn't deny it. "I'm thinking of time."
Old Chen snorted. "Time costs silver."
"And slowness costs more," Lin Yan replied.
They reached town as the market was waking up. Sounds layered over one another—vendors shouting, carts creaking, animals snorting. Lin Yan's eyes moved naturally, measuring without staring.
He didn't go to the horse market.
Instead, he stopped near the transport sheds.
Men who hauled goods lived there. Not flashy. Not rich. But they knew horses better than anyone.
Lin Yan watched quietly as a middle-aged carter watered his horse. The animal's ribs didn't show. Its hooves were clean. Its eyes calm.
That mattered.
"You sell eggs?" the man asked, noticing the basket.
"Yes," Lin Yan replied. "And I'm asking questions."
The carter chuckled. "Those are more expensive."
Lin Yan smiled faintly. "I won't waste them."
They talked while the eggs were weighed.
"How much does it cost to keep a horse?" Lin Yan asked.
The man raised an eyebrow. "You got pasture?"
"Yes."
"Then less than you fear," the man said. "But more than you expect."
That answer satisfied Lin Yan.
He didn't buy a horse.
He didn't even ask to.
Instead, he asked something else.
"If I need transport once a week," Lin Yan said, "would you lease?"
The carter studied him. "You're a farmer."
"A rancher," Lin Yan corrected calmly.
They agreed on a trial—one trip, paid in silver and feed.
No rush. No commitment.
On the way home, Old Chen laughed. "You didn't even touch a rein."
"I don't need to," Lin Yan said. "Not yet."
When they returned, the smell of pork greeted them again.
This time, it wasn't surprise—it was planning.
His mother was cutting fat carefully into small pieces, rendering it slowly. A jar sat ready to catch every drop.
"We'll use this over ten days," she said, almost to herself.
Lin Yan nodded approvingly.
That evening, a neighbor came by carrying a bundle of greens and something else.
Piglets.
Two of them.
"I heard you say eating meat regularly matters," the man said awkwardly. "If… if I raise pigs, would you help?"
Lin Yan didn't answer immediately.
He crouched, inspected the piglets. Their legs were sturdy. Eyes clear.
"You raise them," Lin Yan said. "I'll help with feed and space."
The man's shoulders loosened visibly.
Later, Old Chen shook his head. "You're pulling people in."
"No," Lin Yan said. "I'm giving them habits."
That night, the system interface appeared again.
[Secondary Livestock Detected: Pigs]
[Stability Path Unlocked: Meat Supply Cycle]
Lin Yan studied the words carefully.
Stability, not profit.
The next day, he did something new.
He gathered the villagers again—not to argue, not to announce rules.
To explain pork.
"Pigs eat scraps," Lin Yan said. "What we waste. What we can't sell."
People listened.
"If we plan pork," he continued, "we don't panic-buy meat. We don't celebrate blindly. We eat regularly."
Someone asked, "And if pigs fall sick?"
"Then we learn to prevent it," Lin Yan replied. "Together."
That afternoon, the first leased horse arrived.
Not flashy. Brown-coated. Patient eyes.
Lin Yan didn't mount it.
He walked beside it, hand resting lightly on the rein, letting it smell the pasture.
The horse snorted softly—then relaxed.
Old Chen exhaled slowly. "You treat horses like land."
"They're the same," Lin Yan said. "Force breaks both."
As dusk settled, the family ate again.
No pork this time.
Just vegetables cooked in pork fat.
Still satisfying.
The youngest brother licked his chopsticks thoughtfully. "Third Brother," he said, "pork tastes better when we wait."
Lin Yan smiled.
"Yes," he said. "That's how wealth should taste."
Outside, the horse shifted its weight. The calf lifted its head. Somewhere nearby, piglets squealed softly.
Different animals. Different needs.
One system.
One direction.
Lin Yan looked over the pasture, the road, the people moving steadily within rules that were finally beginning to feel natural.
Slow was fine.
As long as it was forward.