The progress of the "Big House" was not the frantic, magical construction found in legends. It was a rhythmic, soul-crushing labor of tamping dirt.
Under Lin Yan's direction, the family had moved past the excavation. Now, they were rising from the ground. They used a method Lin Yan remembered from historical documentaries: Pisé de Terre, or rammed earth. Two parallel wooden boards were set up as a frame, and into this "form," they poured a mixture of damp subsoil, a bit of lime from the local quarry, and the "secret" ingredient—a dilute solution of fermented rice water that Lin Yan's mother had prepared.
Lin Da and the refugee mason, Zhang He, stood atop the forms with heavy wooden rammers.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound became the heartbeat of the Lin family property. Every layer of earth was only four inches thick, but after an hour of pounding, it would be compressed into a stone-like slab only two inches high.
"Steady, Brother Da," Lin Yan called out, his eyes measuring the level of the wall. "If the tamping is uneven, the wall will weep when the spring rains come."
Lin Da wiped a thick layer of dust and sweat from his forehead. His arms had begun to thicken, the "Vitality Egg" diet finally putting real meat on his bones. "It feels like we're building a mountain, Yan'er. One bowl of dirt at a time."
"That's because we are," Lin Yan replied. He wasn't just building a house; he was teaching his family that permanence requires patience.
The Meadow's Gift
While the men worked the walls, Lin Yan spent his afternoons with his sisters, Yue and Hua, at the edge of the North Slope. He wasn't just looking for food anymore; he was looking for optimization.
He stopped near a patch of what looked like common, purple-flowered weeds. To the villagers, it was just "goat-tongue grass." To Lin Yan's System-enhanced vision, it was a wild variant of Alfalfa.
> [Resource Identified: Wild High-Protein Alfalfa]
> Current Quality: Grade D (Feral).
> Potential: If harvested and dried now, it can increase the goat's milk production by 15%.
> System Suggestion: Collect seeds for the 'Pasture Improvement' project.
>
"Sisters, we aren't pulling these weeds," Lin Yan said, kneeling. "We're going to harvest them gently. Leave the roots, take the tops. We'll dry them on the racks behind the hut."
Lin Yue, the elder sister, looked at the purple flowers. "Why this, Yan'er? The goats usually eat the scrub bushes."
"Because this grass is 'hot,'" Lin Yan explained, using terms they understood. "It gives the animals a fire in their bellies. If the mother goat eats this, her milk will be as thick as cream. And thick milk makes for strong kids."
As they worked, a small group of village women passed by, carrying bundles of firewood. They whispered, their eyes darting from the rising walls of the Lin house to the "strange" grass Lin Yan was gathering.
"They say the Lin boy has been touched by a Mountain Spirit," one whispered, not quite quietly enough.
"I heard he found a pot of gold under the hearth," another replied.
Lin Yan ignored them. In a slow-burn life, rumors were like the wind—they'd blow cold one day and warm the next. What mattered was the weight of the basket.
The Milk of Kindness
Three days later, the mountain doe they had bought—the one that had been limping and mangy—gave a soft, bleating cry in the middle of the night.
Lin Yan was the first one out of bed, a dim oil lamp in his hand. He found the goat in the small lean-to they had built next to the rising house walls. She had given birth to a single kid—a white-and-tan male with sturdy legs and bright, curious eyes.
The mother was exhausted, her ribs still showing despite the better feed. Lin Yan brought out a warm mash he had prepared: crushed grain, a bit of the "Snow Salt," and a handful of the dried Alfalfa.
"Drink, girl," he whispered, stroking her neck.
As she ate, her milk began to "drop." Lin Yan showed his sister, Lin Hua, how to gently milk the doe—not taking everything, but just enough to supplement the family's breakfast.
That morning, the Lin family sat around their table. In the center was a small wooden bowl filled with goat's milk, still warm and frothing. They each took a sip. It didn't taste like the "gamey," thin milk they remembered from the village herds. It was rich, sweet, and carried the subtle fragrance of the mountain herbs.
"This..." Lin Shun, the father, closed his eyes. "This is better than the wine I had at the Magistrate's feast twenty years ago."
"It's just the beginning, Father," Lin Yan said. "When we have ten goats, we'll make cheese. When we have a hundred, we'll sell it to the city. But for now... we use it to grow."
The Shadow at the Gate
The "slow" growth of the Lin family was finally attracting more than just village gossip.
As the sun reached its zenith, a man on a sturdy brown pony rode up to the property. He wasn't a villager. He wore a clean, grey tunic of fine cotton and carried a ledger at his waist. He was an Assessor for the local Landlord, the man who technically "owned" the grazing rights to the surrounding hills.
He looked at the rammed-earth walls, which were now chest-high and smooth as polished bone. He looked at the healthy goat and the piles of drying Alfalfa.
"Who is the master of this house?" the man asked, his voice clipped and professional.
Lin Shun stepped forward, his back instinctively bowing, but Lin Yan placed a hand on his father's shoulder, keeping him upright.
"My father is the head of the house," Lin Yan said, stepping into the light. "But I manage the ranch. How can we help the Landlord's office?"
The Assessor looked at Lin Yan, surprised by the boy's poise. "I am here to record the 'Improvement of Waste Land.' By the laws of the Dynasty, if you build a permanent structure on deeded land, your tax category must be re-evaluated. And..." he paused, sniffing the air. "I smell high-grade salt and fresh dairy. This 'Waste Land' doesn't seem very wasteful anymore."
Lin Yan felt a chill. This was the reality of the ancient world. As soon as you poked your head above the grass, someone was there to clip it.
"We are just trying not to starve, sir," Lin Yan said, his voice dropping into a humble, yet firm tone. "The walls are just dirt. The goat is a cull from the market. But... we are loyal subjects. Perhaps you would like to taste the 'Mountain Herb Milk' before you finish your notes? It is said to be very good for the digestion of those who spend long hours in the saddle."
Lin Yan wasn't just offering a drink; he was offering a relationship. In this world, a slow burn meant knowing when to fuel the fire and when to dampen the smoke.