The sunlight outside was pale and insubstantial, offering little warmth. Willow Creek Village sprawled before Lin Yan—a collection of perhaps thirty ramshackle huts of mud-brick and thatch, nestled in a valley between worn, green-grey hills. The air was cleaner than anything he'd known in his past life, carrying the scent of damp soil, pine, and the ever-present underlying note of manure and hard living.
His family's hut stood at the village's northern edge, closest to the woods and farthest from what passed for the main road. Their land, a sorry rectangle of compacted, stony earth, bore a few wilted stalks of last season's millet, not even worth harvesting. And there, against a mossy stone wall, was the chicken lean-to: three walls of warped planks and a roof of moldy thatch, open to the elements on one side.
"They're not very good chickens, Second Brother," Lin Xiao whispered, as if the birds might overhear and take offense. He pointed to the scrawny brown-feathered creatures pecking listlessly at the bare dirt. "The black one is the fiercest. The yellow one is lazy. The spotted one… I think she's sick."
Lin Yan knelt, ignoring the protest of his weak muscles. The blue system screen flickered helpfully to the forefront of his vision.
[Target Analysis: Domestic Fowl (Gallus gallus domesticus) x3]
- Status: Malnourished. Parasite Load: Moderate. Productivity: Severely Suppressed.
- Individual 1 (Black): Dominant. Health 31/100. Egg Cycle: Irregular.
- Individual 2 (Yellow): Submissive. Health 28/100. Egg Cycle: Dormant.
- Individual 3 (Spotted): Debilitated. Health 19/100. Internal Layer Inflammation Detected.
Numbers. Problems he could quantify. In his past life, he'd optimized server efficiency. Now, he needed to optimize egg production. The principle felt eerily similar.
"You're right, Xiao," Lin Yan said, his voice soft. "The spotted one is sick. But they're all hungry. They can't give us eggs if they're fighting just to stay alive."
"But we have no grain to spare for them," Lin Xiao said, the brutal economics of their life already well-understood by his ten-year-old mind.
"We don't need our grain," Lin Yan said, a plan crystallizing. The system had given him a mission, but not the methodology. That was up to him. He remembered snippets of agricultural knowledge from a past life of documentaries and idle reading, now sharpened by a desperate need. "They need protein. Insects. Grubs. Worms. Things that are free."
He stood up, his eyes scanning the edge of their plot where it met the wild underbrush. "Come. We're going hunting."
"Hunting?" Lin Xiao's eyes went wide. "With bows? We have no bow!"
"With our hands and our wits," Lin Yan said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He found a relatively flat piece of wood and a sharpish stone. "We dig."
For the next hour, as the afternoon sun began its slow descent, the two brothers worked. Lin Yan, with his system-enhanced understanding of basic poultry needs, directed Lin Xiao to turn over rocks near the damp, shaded edges of the property. They broke apart a rotting log. They dug into the soft, black earth beneath a stand of ferns.
It was grueling work. Sweat soaked through Lin Yan's thin tunic within minutes, and his breath came in short, painful gasps. His new body was infuriatingly weak. But every grub they uncovered, every fat earthworm that wriggled in the dirt, every cluster of pill bugs, felt like a victory. Lin Xiao, initially skeptical, became fiercely competitive, his small hands scrabbling in the dirt with a concentration usually reserved for play.
"Look, Second Brother! A whole family of them!" he crowed, holding up a writhing mass of beetle larvae.
"Perfect," Lin Yan wheezed, dumping their haul onto the flat piece of wood. It was a pitiful bounty by any normal standard, but it was more than these chickens had seen in weeks.
They approached the lean-to. The black hen ruffled her feathers and let out a warning cluck. Lin Yan gently tossed a few grubs into the enclosure. The birds froze, then stared. The black one darted forward, snatched a grub, and swallowed it in a flash. The yellow one, emboldened, followed. The spotted one just watched, listless.
Lin Yan focused on the sick bird. He used a twig to push a single, plump earthworm closer to her. She looked at it, then at him with one beady, dull eye. After a long moment, she pecked at it weakly.
"She needs more than food," Lin Yan muttered. The system had noted inflammation. Some herbs might help… but that was a problem for later. Food first.
They fed the chickens the entire harvest of their "hunt." The change was subtle but immediate. The birds became more active, pecking with renewed vigor at the ground where the insects had been. A spark of life returned to their movements.
[Action Recognized: Supplemental Feeding Initiated. Host is applying intuitive animal husbandry. Bonus: +5 System Points.]
A small counter in the corner of his vision ticked from 0 to 5. Points. A currency for change. Lin Yan's heart leapt. It worked.
"Will they lay eggs now?" Lin Xiao asked, wiping dirt on his pants.
"Not today," Lin Yan said honestly. "But soon. We need to do this every day. Twice a day if we can. And we need to make their home better." He eyed the leaky, drafty lean-to. "They need a safe, dry place to nest."
"Father and Big Brother are mending the fishing nets for Old Chen," Lin Xiao said. "They won't have time."
"Then we'll find the time," Lin Yan said. But he knew the boy was right. Survival labor took precedence. He filed the coop repair under "Phase Two."
As they stood there, a man ambled up the path from the village center. He was stout, with a round face that usually wore a carefully cultivated expression of benign authority, though his eyes were sharp as a hawk's. He was Old Chen, the village's most prosperous farmer and their most likely source for a grain loan. He wore a jacket of undyed but sturdy linen, a mark of relative wealth.
"Ah, Lin Yan. You're up and about. Good, good," Old Chen said, his voice smooth. His gaze took in the two brothers, the chickens, the barren plot. It was an assessing look, calculating the value—or lack thereof—of everything he saw. "Your father mentioned the… difficulties. The spring taxes are a burden on us all."
Lin Yan instinctively dipped his head in a slight bow, the memory of village hierarchy guiding him. "Uncle Chen. Yes, we are managing, thanks to your past kindness." He knew they owed Old Chen for two dou of millet from the winter.
"Managing," Old Chen repeated, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Well, a strong young man like you should be back in the fields, not playing with chickens. Strength returns through work, not idleness." His tone was paternal, but the reprimand was clear. "I may have some weeding that needs doing tomorrow. A hard day's work could earn a small measure of grain. Think on it."
It was an offer wrapped in a reminder of their debt and their place. Indentured labor for scraps.
"Thank you, Uncle Chen. I will discuss it with my father," Lin Yan said, keeping his voice neutral. He would not weed for a handful of grain. Not when he had a system and a mission. But he couldn't say that.
Old Chen nodded, seemingly satisfied he'd reasserted the natural order. He cast one last, dismissive glance at the chickens and moved on.
Lin Xiao scowled at the man's retreating back. "He talks like he owns us."
"He owns the grain," Lin Yan said simply. "But we won't need his grain for long." He said it with more conviction than he felt, but speaking it made it feel more possible.
The system was real. The points were real. The mission was clear.
As dusk began to paint the sky in shades of purple and orange, Lin Yan sent Lin Xiao in to help with the evening chores. He stayed by the lean-to, watching the chickens settle. The black hen, her crop now slightly full, hopped onto a low, makeshift perch. The yellow one found a dusty hollow in the corner. The spotted one remained on the ground, but her eyes were closed, not in sickness, but in what looked like the first peaceful rest she'd had in a while.
He pulled up the system screen again.
[Mission: Sustain Your Family. 50 Viable Eggs / 30 Days.]
[Current Projected Output (Based on Current Conditions): 6-8 eggs.]
[Recommendations: 1) Continue Protein-Rich Supplemental Feeding. 2) Administer Anti-Parasitic Treatment (See: Basic Herbal Knowledge – Unlocked at 50 Points). 3) Improve Coop Security and Nesting Environment.]
Six to eight eggs. A far cry from fifty. But it was a baseline. A starting point he could improve. The "Basic Herbal Knowledge" for 50 points was a tangible short-term goal. Treat the parasites, improve health, boost production.
He heard his mother's voice calling from the hut for the evening meal. Another bowl of thin porridge awaited. But as Lin Yan turned from the chickens, he didn't feel the same crushing despair as before. He had data. He had a plan. He had five system points.
He was about to enter the hut when a soft cluck-cluck-gawk came from the lean-to. He turned. The yellow hen, the lazy one, was shifting in her dusty hollow. With a fluff of feathers and a look of profound effort, she stood up and waddled away.
There, in the depression she'd been sitting in, lay a single, small, off-white egg.
A moment later, as if not to be outdone, the black hen on her perch let out a definitive squawk. Something plopped softly onto the packed earth below her.
Lin Yan hurried over, his heart in his throat. Two eggs. One from the yellow hen, still warm. One from the black, slightly larger.
Two eggs. In one evening.
It wasn't fifty. But it was a 100% increase from their previous weekly output. It was a sign. The system' recommendations were valid. His insect-hunting had yielded immediate, tangible results.
He carefully picked up the eggs, their shells fragile and precious in his hands. They felt like hope, solid and warm.
He walked back into the hut, the blue screen minimized but present in his mind, a silent partner. His family was gathered around the low table, their bowls of gruel steaming faintly. All eyes turned to him, then to the eggs in his hands.
A collective intake of breath.
"The hens…" Lin Yan said, holding them out. "They laid these. Just now."
For a second, there was only stunned silence. Then Wang Shi's hand flew to her mouth. Lin Dahu's weary eyes widened. Little Lin Xiao bounced on his toes, beaming with pride. Even Lin Tie and Lin Zhu looked up from their bowls, a flicker of something that wasn't resignation crossing their faces.
"Two…" Wang Shi whispered. "Two in one day? That's… that's a blessing."
Lin Yan placed the eggs gently on the table. They looked alien and opulent amidst the rough pottery and the watery porridge. "We'll eat one tomorrow," he announced, his voice firmer than it had been since his awakening. "To give us strength. And we'll save one. For trading, or… for letting a hen sit on it, if we can get more."
It was a decision that spoke of future planning, not just desperate consumption. His father studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. It was the first approval Lin Yan had seen in those eyes.
That night, as he lay on the kang listening to the soft breaths and snores of his family, Lin Yan stared at the smoke-blackened beams. The mission counter glowed softly in his mind's eye: 2/50 Eggs.
He had twenty-nine days left. He had a sick chicken to heal, a coop to improve, and a village hierarchy to quietly upend.
He closed his eyes, the faint, determined ghost of a smile on his lips. The ranch had produced its first yield. The journey of ten thousand miles had begun with two small, fragile eggs. And for the first time, the future did not seem like a cliff's edge, but a field waiting to be sown.