Lin Yan woke up to the smell of burnt grain.
Not the sharp, bitter scent of coffee from his previous life, but something far worse—thin porridge scorched at the bottom of a clay pot.
His chest felt tight. His limbs were heavy, weak, as if he hadn't eaten properly in days.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a cracked mud ceiling. Spiderwebs clung to the corners, trembling slightly as cold wind slipped through the gaps in the thatch roof.
This… wasn't a hospital.
A coughing sound came from nearby.
"Yan'er, you're awake?"
A woman's voice—tired, careful, as if afraid of breaking him.
Lin Yan turned his head slowly. A thin woman sat by the stove, sleeves patched so many times the original cloth was barely visible. Her cheeks were hollow, eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep. In her hands was a wooden ladle, stirring a pot that held more water than grain.
Memories flooded in like a collapsed dam.
This body belonged to Lin Yan, third son of the Lin family, a poor household in a remote village of an ancient dynasty. Frail since birth. Recently collapsed while hauling firewood. Fevered for two days.
And now… he had woken up.
His previous life surfaced next—office lights, endless deadlines, numb fingers on a keyboard, and finally darkness after collapsing at his desk.
"So I really died from overwork," Lin Yan thought bitterly.
At least… the irony was consistent.
"Third Brother!"
A small figure rushed in from outside, nearly tripping over the uneven floor. A boy no more than five years old ran to the bedside, eyes bright despite his thin frame.
"You scared us!" the boy said, clutching Lin Yan's sleeve. "Mother cried all night!"
This was his youngest brother.
Lin Yan felt something tighten in his chest—different from pain. Warmer. He reached out and patted the boy's head with a weak hand.
"I'm fine," he said hoarsely.
The voice didn't sound like his own, but the words felt right.
The wooden door creaked open again. Two men entered, both weathered, their backs slightly bent from years of labor.
His eldest brother and second brother.
They looked relieved, but also worried—because relief didn't fill stomachs.
"Good," the eldest said, nodding. "You're alive."
That was how farmers spoke. Survival came before comfort.
They gathered around the low table. The porridge was served—each bowl barely tinted white. No one complained. Complaining wasted strength.
Lin Yan lifted his bowl. The porridge was thin enough to see the bottom.
This family wasn't just poor.
They were standing on the edge.
Debts. Failing land. Too many mouths. Too little grain.
Outside, through the open door, Lin Yan could see their fields.
Or rather—what passed for fields.
The soil was pale and hard, dotted with stones. Winter had been cruel. Spring planting would be worse. Even weeds struggled there.
If nothing changed, this family would collapse—slowly, quietly, without drama.
Just like his last life.
Lin Yan closed his eyes.
He refused.
At that moment, something stirred in his mind.
A clear, emotionless voice sounded—not loud, but impossible to ignore.
[Ranch Development System Activated]
Lin Yan froze.
[Host confirmed: Lin Yan]
[Current Resources: 1 barren plot of land]
[Unlocked: Basic Ranch Knowledge]
His heartbeat quickened.
Not cultivation.
Not invincibility.
A ranch system.
Images flashed before him—grass varieties, livestock health, soil recovery cycles. Knowledge from his modern world, sharpened and organized.
Not miracles.
Tools.
Lin Yan slowly opened his eyes and looked again at the land outside.
Grass could be improved.
Animals could be bred.
Land could recover—if treated correctly.
This wasn't about getting rich fast.
This was about not starving.
He lowered his bowl and spoke, voice calm but steady.
"Eldest Brother. Second Brother."
They looked at him.
"After I recover," Lin Yan said, "we won't plant grain on that eastern plot this spring."
His mother stiffened. "Then what will we eat?"
Lin Yan met her eyes.
"We'll raise animals first," he said.
"And grow grass."
The room fell silent.
Outside, the cold wind swept over the barren land.
But for the first time, Lin Yan saw something else there.
A beginning.