The grass took seven days to truly show itself.
Not lush, not tall—just enough to soften the land and change its color. Enough that even people who didn't understand farming felt something was off.
And when something changes in a poor village, trouble never lags far behind.
The knock came just after noon.
Hard. Sharp. Impatient.
Lin Yan was mending a broken fence post when his youngest brother came running, panic all over his small face.
"Third Brother! There are people outside!"
Lin Yan straightened slowly. He wiped the dirt from his hands and glanced toward the house.
Two men stood at the door.
Both wore short jackets of thick cloth, clean but worn, the kind that said town work. One had a ledger tucked under his arm. The other rolled his shoulders like a man used to being obeyed.
Debt collectors.
His mother's face had gone pale. His eldest brother stepped forward instinctively, jaw tight.
"We know why you're here," the eldest said. "We don't have the silver yet."
The man with the ledger sneered. "That's what you said last month."
Lin Yan stepped past his brother.
"I'm Lin Yan," he said calmly. "Third son of this household."
The debt collector looked him up and down—thin body, plain clothes—and dismissed him immediately.
"Then tell your family," the man said, tapping the ledger, "interest adds up. Two strings of copper by the end of the month. Or we take collateral."
"What collateral?" the second brother demanded.
The other man's gaze slid toward the house. The roof. The door. The ox shed.
"Whatever covers the debt."
Silence fell.
Lin Yan didn't raise his voice.
"How much principal remains?" he asked.
The ledger man blinked, surprised. "Thirty taels."
"And interest?" Lin Yan asked.
"Seven."
Lin Yan nodded. "Then let's be clear. You won't touch this house today."
The second man laughed. "And why not?"
Because Lin Yan had already done the math.
"Because if you take our ox," Lin Yan said evenly, "we produce nothing. No grain. No labor. No repayment."
The ledger man frowned. "That's not our concern."
"But it is yours," Lin Yan replied. "Dead debt doesn't pay."
He pointed toward the eastern plot.
"You see that land?"
The men glanced over. Grass swayed lightly in the wind.
"So?" the enforcer scoffed.
"That land was barren last week," Lin Yan said. "Now it feeds animals. In three months, it will support more."
The ledger man hesitated. "You're saying…?"
"I'm saying," Lin Yan continued, "give us three months. No interest added. I'll pay one-third of the principal."
The enforcer burst out laughing. "With grass?"
Lin Yan met his eyes.
"With livestock."
The laughter faltered.
Livestock meant meat. Meat meant silver.
Old Chen's voice drifted from nearby. "That boy knows animals."
Everyone turned. The old herdsman leaned on his staff, eyes sharp.
"I've watched that land," Old Chen said. "I don't know how he did it. But it's real."
The ledger man clicked his tongue, annoyed—but thoughtful.
"Three months," Lin Yan said again. "If I fail, take double interest."
His eldest brother stiffened. "Yan—"
Lin Yan didn't turn.
The debt collectors exchanged a look.
Finally, the ledger man nodded once. "Fine. Three months. But if you hide or delay—"
"I won't," Lin Yan said.
They left.
Only after their footsteps faded did his mother's legs give out. Lin Yan caught her arm.
"You shouldn't have," she whispered. "That's too much pressure."
Lin Yan shook his head. "Pressure doesn't kill people. Hunger does."
That evening, Lin Yan made a decision.
He walked to Old Chen's hut with two bowls of warm porridge—thicker than before.
"I want to raise animals properly," Lin Yan said. "Chickens now. Cattle later."
Old Chen studied him for a long moment.
"You'll need pasture," the old man said. "Rules. Discipline."
"I'll make them," Lin Yan replied.
Old Chen nodded. "Then I'll help."
That night, the system chimed softly.
[New NPC Bond Formed: Old Chen]
[Ranch Efficiency +5%]
Lin Yan didn't smile.
Instead, he walked the pasture under the moonlight.
Grass brushed his ankles.
Three months.
He'd faced worse deadlines before.
This time, though—failure meant starving an entire family.
Lin Yan looked toward the house, where his youngest brother slept curled like a kitten.
"I won't fail," he said quietly.
The grass bent with the wind.
And somewhere beneath the soil, the land listened.