Not everyone signed.
Lin Yan had expected that—but expectation did not lessen consequence.
Three days after the contracts were posted, trouble came from the western ditch again. This time, it wasn't waste.
It was hooves.
Lin Yan heard them before he saw the damage: hurried, careless trampling where grass should have been resting. By the time he reached the pasture edge, a thin strip of land lay flattened, roots torn shallow.
Zhou Hu stood there, rope in hand, leading two donkeys back toward the road.
"You didn't sign," Lin Yan said calmly.
Zhou Hu snorted. "Your paper doesn't own the land."
"No," Lin Yan replied. "But it governs access."
"I've grazed here since my father's time," Zhou Hu shot back. "You're just a hat-wearing farmer with fancy words."
The villagers gathered quietly. No one stepped in.
Lin Yan crouched and touched the soil again. It yielded too easily.
"You ignored rotation," Lin Yan said. "And you came at dawn."
"So what?" Zhou Hu demanded. "Grass grows back."
Lin Yan stood.
"You're barred from the pasture for thirty days," he said evenly. "Repair the damage in labor, or compensate in feed."
Zhou Hu laughed harshly. "You don't have that authority."
Lin Yan met his eyes. "Then test it."
Zhou Hu stormed off.
By noon, word reached the village that Zhou Hu had gone to the county seat.
Old Chen sighed when he heard. "That one always believed noise could replace sense."
Lin Yan didn't respond. He gathered the contracts again, checked the seals, and placed them carefully into a wooden box.
That afternoon, Xu Wen arrived.
This time, he brought a minor clerk and a pair of guards—not aggressive, but visible. Authority made flesh.
The village stilled.
Xu Wen greeted Lin Yan with a measured nod. "A complaint was filed."
"I assumed there would be," Lin Yan replied.
They walked the pasture together. Xu Wen observed silently, stopping where the damage lay fresh.
"This land was rested," Xu Wen said.
"Yes."
"And now?"
"Ten days setback," Lin Yan replied.
Xu Wen nodded and turned to the clerk. "Record that."
Zhou Hu arrived soon after, face flushed, voice already raised.
"He's hoarding land!" Zhou Hu shouted. "Charging for grass that belongs to everyone!"
Xu Wen raised a hand. Silence fell instantly.
"Did you sign the agreement?" Xu Wen asked.
Zhou Hu hesitated. "No."
"Then why were your animals here?" Xu Wen asked.
Zhou Hu opened his mouth, then closed it.
Xu Wen turned to Lin Yan. "You deny access based on written terms?"
"Yes," Lin Yan said. "Equally applied."
Xu Wen studied him for a long moment.
"Contracts that reduce disputes are encouraged," he said finally. "Especially when land productivity improves."
Zhou Hu's face drained of color.
Xu Wen added, "However—"
Lin Yan waited.
"Visibility invites scrutiny," Xu Wen continued. "Your methods are effective. That makes them influential."
"I understand," Lin Yan said.
"You will submit a copy of these agreements to the county," Xu Wen said. "For record."
Lin Yan bowed slightly. "I will."
Zhou Hu slumped.
Xu Wen turned to him. "As for you—repair the damage. Or pay the fine."
The guards stepped forward just enough to make the choice clear.
Zhou Hu nodded stiffly.
After they left, the village exhaled as one.
That evening, Shen Yue arrived quietly.
"I heard," she said.
"So did everyone," Lin Yan replied.
She looked toward the pasture. "You held."
"Yes," Lin Yan said. "But the rope tightened."
Dinner was subdued.
No pork tonight.
No one mentioned it.
Later, Lin Yan sat with his youngest brother under the lamp.
"Why do people fight rules?" the boy asked softly.
"Because rules show where they stand," Lin Yan replied.
The system interface appeared late that night.
[County Oversight: Active]
[Local Authority: Legitimatized]
[Next Threshold: Delegation Required]
Delegation.
Lin Yan leaned back, eyes on the ceiling.
One person could guide land.
But systems required hands.
Tomorrow, he would choose who to trust.