The wind over the Northern Border didn't just blow; it bit. It was a cold that didn't settle on the skin but sank straight into the marrow, gnawing on the bones of anyone foolish enough to be caught outside.
Inside the dilapidated mud-brick house of the Li family, the air was thick, stale, and smelled faintly of boiled tree bark.
Lady Zhao stirred the iron pot, her wrist trembling slightly. Inside the dark water, a few shriveled roots bobbed aimlessly. There was no rice. No grain. Just water and whatever scrub the children had scrounged from the frozen hillsides.
"Mother, is it ready?"
The voice was small. Little Li An, the youngest of the family at ten years old, sat huddled on the earthen kang, his face pale and pinched from hunger. He clutched his stomach, his eyes fixed on the pot with a desperate, animalistic intensity.
Lady Zhao forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Soon, An-er. Just let it thicken up."
Thicken. It was a lie they all told each other. Water did not thicken without flour.
In the corner of the room, Li Da, the eldest brother, sat sharpening a rusted iron cleaver on a whetstone. *Scritch. Scritch.* The rhythmic sound was the only noise in the room besides the wind whistling through the gaps in the door frame. His wife, Wang Shi, sat beside him, mending a coat that was more patches than fabric, her eyes downcast. Their three children—ages two, four, and six—were piled under a thin quilt, asleep to escape the hunger pangs.
Li Wei, the third son, lay on the edge of the kang, his eyes closed.
But he wasn't asleep.
*Where am I?*
The confusion in his mind was a dull roar. Memories collided violently. One moment, he was riding his chestnut mare across the pastures of his ranch in Montana, checking the fences before a storm. The next, a sharp pain in his chest, darkness, and then... this.
He smelled dust, old sweat, and the acrid scent of poverty. He felt the hard-packed earth beneath a thin straw mat. And the hunger—a hollow, gnawing pit in his stomach that felt like it was trying to eat him from the inside out.
Li Wei forced his eyes open.
The ceiling was low, blackened by years of soot. The light was dim, coming from a small oil lamp that sputtered weakly. This wasn't a hospital. This wasn't Montana.
*Rebirth?*
It was the only explanation that fit the flood of foreign memories surfacing in his mind. Li Wei. Eighteen years old. Third son of the Li family. A tenant farmer in Stone Roll Village, North County, under the rule of the Great Yu Dynasty.
A world of emperors and officials. A world where farmers were treated like dirt and starved like rats.
He took a slow breath, his new body protesting the movement. He was weak. Dangerously weak. In his past life, he was a man of six feet, broad-shouldered and calloused from work. This body was stick-thin, stunted by years of malnutrition.
"Third Brother, you're awake?"
Li Wei turned his head. Sitting next to him was Li Er, the second brother. He looked slightly better fed than Li Wei, but his face was etched with worry.
"Water," Li Wei croaked. His throat felt like sandpaper.
Li Er hesitated, glancing at the pot, then grabbed a chipped clay bowl. He dipped it into the "soup" and handed it over. "Here. It's warm."
Li Wei took the bowl. The liquid was grey and murky. He took a sip, forcing himself not to gag. It tasted like dirt and hot water. But the warmth spreading through his chest was a mercy.
*This is survival,* he thought, his modern sensibilities crashing against the harsh reality. *This is rock bottom.*
"The Village Head came by today," Li Er whispered, leaning closer, his voice dropping so the parents wouldn't hear clearly. "He said the tax collector is coming next week. The Land Tax is due."
Li Wei's eyes narrowed as the memories sorted themselves out. The Land Tax. The bane of every farmer's existence. The Li family leased ten *mu* of barren land from a minor noble in the county seat. After paying the lease and the government tax, they were lucky if they kept enough grain to last half the winter.
"Father hasn't spoken since he came back," Li Er continued, nodding toward the far end of the kang.
Li Wei looked over. His father, Li Dazhuang, sat like a statue, staring blankly at the wall. He was a large man, or had been once, but now his frame was gaunt. An old leg injury—shrapnel from a border skirmish years ago—flared up in the cold, making him limp heavily. He had gone out early to try and hunt a rabbit or a pheasant in the snow, but had returned empty-handed.
"We have nothing left," Li Er said, his voice trembling. "Brother Da says... he says if we don't pay, they might take the house. Or take one of the sisters."
Li Wei's gaze shifted to the other corner of the room. Two girls, Chun and Qiu, huddled together. Sixteen and fourteen. Pretty, despite the filth and the rags. In this world, "taking a daughter" to serve in a rich family or a brothel to pay off debts wasn't just a threat; it was a standard practice.
A surge of anger flared in Li Wei's chest, hot and sudden. It was followed by a cold, analytical calm.
*Panic won't solve this,* the rancher in him thought. *Assess the assets. Assess the environment. Find the solution.*
He looked around the room again. The family had no money. The harvest had failed due to an early frost. The hunting was poor.
He tried to sit up, his muscles screaming in protest. He needed to move. He needed to see what was outside.
"Where are you going?" Li Er asked, grabbing his arm. "You fainted yesterday. You need rest."
"Rest won't fill the pot," Li Wei said, his voice raspy but firm. He pushed himself up, swaying slightly. "I need to check the shed."
"The shed?" Li Er looked confused. "There's nothing in the shed but that old ox and... the calf."
The calf.
The memory hit Li Wei. The family's only lifeline. A yellow calf, born two weeks ago. It had been a difficult birth, and the animal had been weak ever since. It refused to suckle. It hadn't stood up in three days.
It was a dead animal walking.
Li Wei stumbled toward the door, grabbing a thin, padded coat that barely kept out the chill. He pushed the heavy wooden door open, and the Northern wind slapped him in the face.
*Bracing,* he thought, straightening his spine against the gust.
The yard was bare, swept clean by the wind. A few chickens huddled in a coop, looking like frozen balls of fluff. To the side was a leaning shed, its roof patched with straw.
Li Wei walked over, his boots crunching in the thin snow.
Inside the shed, the smell of manure was strong. An old, bony ox chewed lazily on dried stalks, its ribs visible even in the dim light. And in the corner, lying on a pile of dirty straw, lay the calf.
It was a pathetic sight. A local Yellow Cattle breed. Small, skinny, its breathing shallow and rapid. Its eyes were half-open, glazed over.
Li Wei knelt beside it. He reached out, his hand trembling from weakness, and placed it on the calf's neck.
*Cold. Too cold.*
He felt for a pulse. It was there, a faint thready beat.
In his old world, a calf like this would have been monitored by a vet, given supplements, kept in a heated barn. Here, it was dying because it was too weak to stand and drink milk, and the mother was too malnourished to produce enough.
"Useless thing," a voice grumbled from the doorway.
Li Wei turned. It was his father, Li Dazhuang. The older man had followed him out. His face was dark, his eyes hollow. "It won't last the night. I should slaughter it now. At least the family can have meat for a day."
"Meat for a day, hunger for a month," Li Wei said quietly, his fingers still on the calf's pulse.
"We don't have milk to feed it," Li Dazhuang snapped, though the anger was born of helplessness. "We can barely feed ourselves. It's a waste of fodder to keep it alive."
"It's a waste to kill it," Li Wei countered. He looked up, meeting his father's eyes. In his past life, Li Wei had been a respected breeder. He knew potential when he saw it, even in a dying animal. "This calf... its bone structure is good. It has a broad chest. If it lives, it will be a strong ox for plowing. If it dies, we eat for one night and lose a future worker."
Li Dazhuang scoffed, turning away. "It can't stand! How can it live if it can't drink?"
Li Wei ignored the outburst. He focused on the calf. He knew what needed to be done. The calf was hypothermic and dehydrated. It needed warmth and fluids. But there were no IVs here. No electric heaters.
*Focus.*
He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing. Suddenly, a strange sensation prickled at the back of his mind. A cool, blue light flickered in his vision—not in the air, but projected directly into his consciousness.
**[System Activating...]**
**[Host Physical Condition: Critical. Nutrient Deficiency Detected.]**
**[Scanning Environment...]**
**[Target Detected: Common Yellow Cattle (Calf).]**
**[Status: Critical. Probability of Survival: 5%.]**
Li Wei's heart skipped a beat.
*A system?*
He didn't panic. In his past life, he had read enough novels to know what this was. A cheat? A tool? He didn't care. He needed it.
*Can you help it?* he thought.
**[Affirmative. Activating 'Novice Rancher' Ability: Vitality Diagnosis.]**
The world shifted slightly in his vision. The calf was now overlaid with a wireframe schematic. Red areas highlighted the stomach and lungs.
**[Diagnosis: Pneumonia onset. Severe Dehydration. Maternal Antibody Deficiency.]**
**[Recommendation: Immediate warmth and artificial feeding. Stimulate lymph nodes.]**
Li Wei opened his eyes. He didn't have medicine. He didn't have formula. But he had knowledge.
"Father," Li Wei said, his voice steady. "Bring me a pot of hot water. Not boiling, just warm. And bring a clean cloth."
"What for?" Li Dazhuang frowned. "Are you trying to bathe a cow?"
"Just do it," Li Wei said, his tone taking on a natural authority that surprised his father. "If it dies in an hour, you can butcher it. But let me try."
Li Dazhuang stared at his third son. Usually, the boy was quiet, submissive. But there was a look in his eyes now—a sharp, stubborn light that hadn't been there before.
"Hmph," the father grunted. "Wasting firewood."
But he turned and walked back toward the house.
Li Wei looked back at the calf. He pulled off his own thin outer coat, shivering instantly as the wind hit him. He draped the coat over the calf's shivering body.
"Hold on, you little guy," he whispered, rubbing the calf's chest vigorously to generate heat. "If you die, my sisters go hungry. And I'm not letting that happen."
He didn't know how he was going to save this family yet. He didn't know how he was going to pay the tax collector or buy the seed for spring.
But he had a system. He had a lifetime of knowledge. And he had a calf that refused to die.
*This is my ranch now,* he thought, looking out at the barren, snow-covered wasteland beyond the fence. *And I'm going to turn this hell into a pasture.