The night was the longest of Lin Yan's new life.
He lay on his thin pallet, the shared body heat of his brothers and father a stark contrast to the icy air that seeped through the hut's walls. Sleep was impossible. Every sense was hyper-alert, tuned to the faintest sound from the small coop outside. The rustle of straw, the soft, occasional cheep that seemed to pierce the silence like a needle. Each one sent a jolt through him—was it normal? Were they cold? Was a weasel sniffing around?
The system knowledge in his head was both a comfort and a source of anxiety. He knew the basics, but theory was a poor blanket against the frost of reality. He'd checked the water jar twice already, donning his ragged outer coat and slipping out into the biting cold, his breath pluming in the moonlight, to ensure it hadn't frozen or tipped. The chicks had stirred each time, huddling together for warmth. He'd added more dry leaves around them, his heart aching at their vulnerability.
They're just babies, he thought, a surge of protective fierceness surprising him. In his past life, livestock were units of production, data points in a sustainability model. These five fluffballs were his first, fragile responsibility. Their survival was inextricably linked to his family's hope. The weight of it was a physical pressure on his chest.
He watched the slow crawl of the system's moonlit timer in the corner of his vision for the Daily Quest: 'First Feeding.' Time until sunrise: 4 hours, 12 minutes…
Beside him, Lin Xiaoshan stirred. "Second Brother?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"
"Yes."
"I can't sleep either. I keep thinking about them. Do you think they're scared?"
Lin Yan considered it. "Maybe a little. But they have each other. And they have us now."
"The dream… was it scary? The ancestors showing you all this?"
Lin Yan crafted the lie carefully in the dark. "It wasn't scary. It was… clear. Like someone was patiently teaching me. Showing me how to fix things, step by step."
"Do you think…" Xiaoshan's voice was even smaller. "Do you think they'll show us more?"
Lin Yan looked at the faint blue system interface, a secret between him and the cosmos. "I think," he said honestly, "that if we prove we can handle this first gift, more will follow."
That seemed to satisfy the boy. Soon, Xiaoshan's breathing deepened into sleep. Lin Yan remained awake, listening to the symphony of his family's rest—his father's soft snore, the rustle of his mother turning over, a child's whimper from the women's side of the hut soothed by a murmured lullaby. This was his tribe now. Their survival, their future warmth, their full bellies—it was all slowly becoming the central equation of his existence.
Just before true dawn, as the black outside the window softened to indigo, a new notification appeared.
[Hidden Condition Met: Host demonstrates 'Caretaker's Vigilance' (Multiple night-time checks on livestock).]
[Bonus Reward: 5 System Points.]
[Total System Points: 5/100 required for Shop Unlock.]
A small, warm thrill cut through his fatigue. Points. A currency for progress. He had no idea what the shop would offer, but the very existence of a path forward was energizing.
When the first true gray light filtered into the hut, Lin Yan was already moving, his body stiff and protesting. He dressed quickly in his patched clothes and threadbare coat. Across the room, Wang Shi was also rising, her movements automatic from a lifetime of early dawns. Their eyes met. No words were needed. She nodded, a silent partnership formed in the crucible of newfound hope.
He slipped outside. The world was monochrome and frosted, silent but for the distant crow of a rooster from the richer southern part of the village. He approached the coop, his heart in his throat. He opened the twig-door.
Five sleepy, fluffed-up faces peered up at him. One let out a demanding cheep-cheep-cheep! They were alive. They were active. They were hungry.
[Daily Quest: 'First Feeding.' Objective in progress.]
"Alright, alright," he whispered, a grin breaking across his face. "Breakfast is coming."
But what to feed them? The system knowledge said grains, greens, insects. Their family millet was sacred, not for chickens. He'd have to forage.
As he was pondering, Lin Xiaoshan tumbled out of the hut, nearly vibrating with excitement. "Can I feed them? What do they eat?"
"You can help me find their food," Lin Yan said. "We need two things: tiny insects, grubs, worms—anything that moves in the soil. And any green weeds that aren't thorny or poisonous. Dandelion leaves, chickweed, anything tender."
Xiaoshan's face fell slightly. "In this frost?"
"The frost will be melting in the sunnier spots. And we can look under rocks, in the compost of rotten leaves." He handed his brother a small, flat basket. "You take the greens. I'll look for bugs."
The morning's first mission had begun. As they worked around the edges of their plot and the nearby woodline, the rest of the family emerged. Lin Gang, true to his word, inspected the coop's structure. "Needs a proper hinge and latch," he grunted. "I'll cut a piece of leather from the old harness." He set to work with his knife.
Lin Qiang watched from the doorstep, arms crossed. He still seemed skeptical, but the tangible reality of the chicks had muted his doubt into watchfulness. "Insects and weeds," he muttered to his wife Zhang Mei. "We're feeding precious livestock like they're wild birds."
"They are birds, husband," Zhang Mei replied softly, with a practicality that surprised Lin Yan. "And if they lay eggs from eating free food, that's better magic than any I've seen." She picked up a basket. "I'll look near the stream bank. There's always cress there."
Soon, it became a family endeavor. Wang Shi and Lin Xiaohui joined the foraging, showing Xiaoshan which young weeds were safe. Even the children, Tie Zhu and Shitou, were tasked with turning over small, flat stones to look for pill bugs and beetles.
Lin Yan focused on the soil. He found a partially rotten log and carefully peeled back the bark. A seething mass of fat, white grubs and scurrying beetles greeted him. Jackpot. Using two sticks as chopsticks, he began transferring them to a wooden bowl. It was menial, slightly disgusting work, but the system knowledge affirmed it: animal protein was crucial for early growth and feather development.
After an hour, they reconvened by the coop. The basket held a pile of assorted greens, somewhat wilted but fresh. Lin Yan's bowl held a wriggling, crawling collection of protein.
"Now what?" Lin Dashan asked. He had been observing everything, his expression unreadable.
"We chop the greens very fine," Lin Yan instructed. "And we mix in the bugs. We'll offer it to them on a flat stone so they can peck easily."
Wang Shi took the greens inside to chop. Lin Yan, with Xiaoshan as a fascinated audience, carefully placed the bowl of insects and the soon-to-be-chopped greens just inside the coop door. The chicks, who had been cheeping incessantly, surged forward. They pecked at the bugs with comical ferocity, devouring the wriggling morsels with clear delight.
"They like it!" Xiaoshan clapped.
Lin Gang finished his work, installing a leather hinge and a simple but effective wooden latch. "Fox-proof. Or at least, fox-resistant."
Lin Yan checked the water, ensuring it was clean and full. He watched the chicks eat, his analytical mind noting their behavior. All were active, their crops (the small pouch at the base of their necks) beginning to fill visibly. No signs of listlessness or imbalance.
[Daily Quest: 'First Feeding.' – COMPLETE.]
[Reward: 10 System Points. Total: 15/100.]
A small victory. The first of countless dawn routines to come.
As the family stood watching their new charges eat breakfast, the reality of their situation began to settle past the initial wonder.
"They'll need to eat like this every day," Lin Qiang pointed out, the provider in him surfacing. "Twice a day, maybe. Finding this many bugs in winter won't be easy. And when the deep snow comes…"
He was right. Lin Yan nodded. "You're correct, Second Brother. Foraging is a temporary solution. We need a sustainable feed source. That means we need to start growing or acquiring grain specifically for them. And that means we need to start generating income."
"Income from what?" Lin Dashan asked quietly. "The eggs won't come for months."
"From the land," Lin Yan said, turning to look at the barren mu. "But not by fighting it. By working with it. The chicken manure, mixed with straw and leaves, will start a compost pile. That compost, in time, will heal a small patch of soil. In that patch, we won't plant millet. We'll plant something hardy, something that improves the soil further, something we can feed to the chickens and maybe even eat ourselves."
"Like what?" Lin Xiaohui asked, intrigued.
"Like beans," Lin Yan said. "Certain beans put nitrogen back into the soil. Or turnips. They grow in poor ground. But first, we need the compost." He outlined the plan: a dedicated compost pile in the sunniest corner, layered with chicken manure, straw, leaves, and even the family's food scraps (which were pitifully few). It would be a slow process, but it was a process. A cycle. The very foundation of sustainable farming.
It was a concept so basic to his old mind, yet revolutionary here. You fed the soil, the soil fed the plants, the plants fed the animals and the people, and the waste from both fed the soil again.
For the first time, Lin Dashan's eyes showed not just hope, but a glimmer of understanding. He was a farmer, beaten down but not stupid. He saw the logic. "A cycle," he murmured. "Not just taking… but putting back."
"Exactly, Father."
The morning's lessons were interrupted by the arrival of a visitor. It was Er Niu, Lin Yan's boisterous childhood friend, his broad face red from the cold. "Yan-ge! Heard you were up and about after your fall! And that you've gone and built a… a…" He peered at the coop. "What in heaven's name is that?"
Er Niu was the son of a somewhat better-off villager, a family with two pigs and a small orchard. He was famously strong, famously loud, and famously loyal.
"A chicken coop, Er Niu," Lin Yan said, smiling.
"Chickens?" Er Niu's eyes bulged. He strode over and peered inside. "Five of them! And such fine chicks! Where'd you get the coin for these? Did Old Man Li finally call in your debt?"
The mention of the debt sent a chill through the Lin family that had nothing to do with the weather. Village Head Li held their promissory note for 350 coppers.
"No coin," Lin Yan said smoothly. "A trade. A favor for a traveling merchant who passed by the woods." It was a flimsy story, but the best he could do.
Er Niu whistled, impressed. "Lucky! Well, they look healthy. But you listen to me, Yan-ge. You keep that latch strong. Old Fox Feng has been bragging about snatching two ducks from the Zhangs' yard this season. He's a crafty one." He leaned in. "You need help with anything? I've got some spare time before my dad needs me to prune the apple trees."
Lin Yan saw an opportunity. Er Niu's strength and good nature were assets. "Actually, Er Niu, I might. We're starting a compost pile to improve the soil. Need to dig a shallow pit and move some materials. Could use strong arms."
Er Niu beamed. Being asked for his strength was a compliment. "Consider it done! After noon meal?"
"After noon meal."
As Er Niu lumbered off, spreading the news of the Lin family's mysterious new chickens, Lin Yan felt the first ripple of their actions extending into the village. News traveled fast. Attention was a double-edged sword.
The noon meal was another bowl of thin millet porridge, but the mood was different. There was a topic of conversation. The chicks. The compost pile. The strange, specific knowledge Lin Yan possessed. He fielded questions carefully, always attributing it to "the clear details of the dream." It was accepted, albeit with awe and lingering superstition.
After eating, Er Niu returned true to his word. With his help, Lin Gang, and Lin Yan directing, they dug a shallow, wide pit in the designated sunny corner. They lined it with a layer of sticks for aeration, then began the careful layering: a thick base of dry leaves and straw Xiaoshan had gathered, then the first precious scoop of manure-soiled straw from the coop (which was surprisingly less offensive than expected), then a layer of soil, then kitchen scraps (a few cabbage outer leaves Wang Shi had saved), then more leaves.
"You have to keep it damp, like a wrung-out sponge, and turn it every few weeks to let air in," Lin Yan explained as they worked. "The heat you feel inside it later is tiny life breaking everything down into rich, black earth."
Er Niu wiped his brow, though the day was cold. "You make dirt sound exciting, Yan-ge."
"It is," Lin Yan said with complete sincerity. "It's the most exciting thing in the world. It's the difference between life and death."
By late afternoon, the compost pile was built, a humble, layered mound that looked like nothing more than a pile of garbage to the untrained eye. To Lin Yan, it was a furnace of future fertility, quietly burning.
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in washes of pink and gold, Lin Yan fulfilled the evening feeding ritual with Xiaoshan. The chicks had grown visibly more active, exploring their small domain. Their droppings were already contributing to the cycle.
He was cleaning the water jar when a new, stark notification flashed in his vision.
[Alert: External Stressor Detected.]
[Village Head Li has been informed of your new assets. Debt recall probability increased.]
[Risk Assessment: Medium-High. Immediate liquidity: 0 Copper Coins.]
The warmth of the day's work vanished. The system wasn't just a guide; it was a situational awareness tool. Of course. Er Niu's news would have reached Li's ears. A debtor suddenly acquiring five valuable chicks? To a moneylender, that wasn't hope; it was collateral.
Lin Dashan must have seen the change in his son's face. He came over, his voice low. "What is it?"
"Village Head Li," Lin Yan said simply. "He'll have heard about the chickens."
All the color drained from Lin Dashan's face. The fragile hope of the day shattered under the weight of this old, familiar fear. "He… he might call the debt. Or demand the chicks as partial payment."
"We can't let that happen," Lin Yan said, his mind racing. The system had no magic coin generator. They needed cash, or at least a credible reason for Li to wait.
"What can we do?" Wang Shi asked, joining them, her earlier light gone.
Lin Yan looked at the coop, at the compost pile, at his family's worried faces. He had sparked hope; he couldn't let it be snuffed out by the old world's logic. He needed to buy time. A season. Just until the first eggs.
An idea, born of desperation and a deep understanding of human (and bureaucratic) nature, began to form.
"Father," Lin Yan said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "When you go to see Village Head Li—and he will send for you—you must not appear desperate. You must appear… strategically invested."
"What does that mean?" Lin Dashan asked, confused.
"It means we don't hide the chickens. We present them as part of a plan to repay him in full, with interest. A plan blessed by the ancestors. We tell him the chicks are the seed capital of that plan. Taking them now would be killing the goose that lays the golden eggs before it's even grown. We need to convince him that his best chance of getting his 350 coppers back—plus maybe more—is to give us time to let this plan work."
Lin Qiang, who had been listening, snorted. "Li is a stone. He doesn't care about plans. He cares for copper in his hand."
"Then we make him see more copper later," Lin Yan insisted. "We offer him a formal agreement. Extend the debt three months. At the end of three months, we pay not just the 350 coppers, but an additional… 20 as interest. If we fail, he takes the chickens, the coop, and the rights to this mu of land." It was a huge risk. An impossible promise.
"Twenty coppers interest? In three months? Yan'er, how?" Wang Shi's voice trembled.
"The eggs. The first crops from the improved soil. We'll sell everything. We'll work every waking moment." Lin Yan's gaze was fierce. "But we need those three months to breathe. Without them, we lose everything anyway. This way, we have a chance."
The family stood in a tense circle, the decision hanging over them. It was a gamble with their only assets.
Lin Dashan looked at his son—at the determined fire in his eyes that seemed to burn away the boy's frailty. He looked at the coop, where the chicks were settling for the night. He thought of the compost pile, a thing he'd never seen before but whose logic he felt in his bones.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, the breath of a man stepping off a cliff.
"Alright," Lin Dashan said, the word final. "We will try it your way. When he calls, I will speak of the plan."
The crisis was merely postponed, but it was a tactical retreat, not a rout. That night, as Lin Yan performed his final check on the chicks, the system chimed.
[Milestone Progress: 'Family Unity' increased. Host has successfully mobilized family unit towards a common agricultural goal.]
[Reward: 'Basic Soil Analysis' (One-time use). Allows host to scan a 1m x 1m area of soil for pH, primary nutrient deficiencies, and organic content.]
It wasn't coins, but it was a tool. A powerful one. He immediately used it on the soil near the compost pile. The results hovered in his vision: pH: 8.3 (Highly Alkaline). Nitrogen: Very Low. Phosphorus: Low. Potassium: Medium. Organic Matter: <1%. It confirmed everything. But now he had data. He could target improvements.
He lay down that night, exhausted to his marrow, but his mind was a whirlwind of plans. Feed ratios, compost turning schedules, debt negotiations, soil amendments. The simplicity of his old life—complicated though it was—seemed like a distant dream.
Just as he was drifting off, a soft sound made him sit bolt upright. A scraping at the coop door.
His blood ran cold. Fox.
He grabbed the heavy fire poker and slipped outside, barefoot on the frosty earth, his heart hammering. In the moonlight, he saw a dark, low shape nosing at the new leather hinge.
"HEY!" Lin Yan shouted, charging forward, brandishing the poker.
The shape—a scrawny, gray-furred fox—jumped back with a yelp, its eyes gleaming in the dark. It hesitated, looking from the fierce, half-crazed human to the coop. Lin Yan didn't hesitate. He threw the poker. It clattered harmlessly short, but the noise was enough. The fox turned and melted into the shadows of the woods.
Lin Yan stood there, panting, adrenaline coursing through him. He checked the coop. The chicks were huddled in a frightened ball, but safe. The latch had held. Lin Gang's work had passed its first test.
He retrieved the poker, his hands shaking. This was the reality. Every day would be a fight—against the elements, against poverty, against predators both animal and human.
He looked up at the vast, star-strewn sky of the ancient world, so much clearer and colder than any he'd ever seen.
"I hear you," he whispered to the universe, or to the system, or to himself. "I'm listening. And I'm fighting back."
Back inside, he didn't sleep. He began to plan in earnest. The 'Basic Soil Analysis' had given him an idea. There were wild plants—certain legumes, even weeds like shepherd's purse—that thrived in alkaline soil and could be used as green manure. He could start gathering their seeds. He needed to diversify the chicks' diet with calcium; they could burn and crush old bones if they could find any. Every problem had a solution, if he was clever enough, worked hard enough.
The first dawn of responsibility had ended not with peaceful rest, but with a vigil. A vigil over five sleeping chicks, a smoldering compost pile, and the fragile, defiant flame of a family's hope, burning bright in the immense and watchful dark.
[System Note: Host has weathered the first day. Resilience recognized. The path of cultivation is long. Continue.]
The blue dot pulsed, a steady heartbeat in the quiet night. Lin Yan watched the window, waiting for the light, ready for the next day's fight.