Lin Dahu had never thought much.
Not because he was stupid—he simply believed that thinking too much was a luxury for people who didn't have to worry about their next meal.
You wake up, you work, you eat if you're lucky, and you sleep.
That was life.
But recently, his thoughts wouldn't stay quiet.
He stood at the edge of the half mu field, hoe resting against his shoulder, staring at the vegetable rows. The greens were still there, still alive—but something was off.
The leaves weren't as firm.
Some had small holes.
Tiny, jagged bites.
"Insects," Lin Dahu muttered.
He crouched and turned a leaf over.
There they were.
Small green caterpillars clinging to the underside, nearly invisible unless you knew where to look.
His jaw tightened.
"Yan'er," he called.
Lin Yan came over slowly, leaning on his stick. He didn't need to crouch to understand. One glance was enough.
"They came last night," Lin Yan said calmly.
Lin Dahu felt heat rise in his chest. "Should I spray ash? Or flood the rows?"
"No flooding," Lin Yan replied immediately. "The roots are still shallow."
Lin Dahu exhaled hard. "Then what?"
"We pick them. By hand."
Lin Dahu stared. "That'll take all day."
"Yes."
Lin Dahu looked at his younger brother.
In the past, he might've argued.
Today, he nodded.
"I'll call Erniu."
Lin Erniu cursed loudly when he saw the damage.
"These damn bugs—where do they even come from?!"
"They come when crops grow," Lin Yan said. "It means the plants are healthy enough to attract them."
"That's supposed to be good news?"
"It means we're visible," Lin Yan replied. "To insects. And to people."
That last part made Lin Erniu fall silent.
They worked methodically.
No shouting.
No rushing.
They checked every leaf, crushed every caterpillar between calloused fingers, wiped their hands on the dirt, and moved on.
It was slow.
Painfully slow.
But by midday, the damage had stopped spreading.
Lin Dahu straightened his back, sweat soaking through his shirt.
"You noticed this early," he said to Lin Yan. "If it was two more days…"
"We'd lose half the crop," Lin Yan finished.
Lin Dahu swallowed.
For the first time, he truly understood something.
This land wasn't just producing food.
It was producing risk.
The real problem came that afternoon.
Water.
The small irrigation channel that fed the eastern slope had always been weak, but today it was barely trickling.
Lin Erniu frowned. "This isn't normal."
They followed the channel upstream.
At the bend near the old willow, they found the reason.
Someone had piled stones into the channel, redirecting water toward another plot.
Wang Hu's plot.
Lin Dahu's grip tightened on his hoe.
"He did this?" Lin Erniu hissed.
Lin Yan studied the stones quietly.
"No," he said.
Lin Erniu turned sharply. "Then who?"
"Someone trying to cause trouble," Lin Yan replied. "If Wang Hu wanted water, he'd have asked."
As if summoned by his name, Wang Hu appeared from the path, carrying a bucket.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Lin Dahu pointed. "The channel."
Wang Hu's face darkened.
"That's not mine," he said immediately. "I didn't touch it."
"I know," Lin Yan said.
Wang Hu looked at him sharply. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
Wang Hu exhaled slowly.
"That means someone's testing you."
Lin Erniu cursed again. "Cowards."
Lin Yan nodded once. "We'll move the stones back. Quietly."
"No confrontation?" Lin Dahu asked.
"Not yet," Lin Yan replied. "We don't know who."
They fixed the channel.
Water flowed again—thin, but steady.
Lin Yan watched it carefully.
"This will happen again," he said.
Wang Hu grimaced. "Village's changing."
"Yes," Lin Yan replied. "And change scares people."That evening, a bell rang.
Not loud.
Not urgent.
Slow.
Measured.
A funeral bell.
Old Madam Chen had passed away.
She'd been over seventy, childless, surviving on neighbors' kindness and weak porridge. No one was surprised—but everyone felt it.
In villages like this, death was a reminder.
Not of loss.
But of fragility.
The Lin family attended.
Lin Yan stood quietly at the back, observing.
The village head spoke briefly.
People bowed.
Some cried.
Some looked around, eyes sharp, calculating.
During the shared meal afterward, Lin Yan noticed whispers.
"Vegetables…"
"Sold at market…"
"They say officials came…"
Eyes flicked toward the Lin brothers.
Lin Dahu stiffened.
Lin Erniu clenched his jaw.
Lin Yan lowered his gaze, appearing tired, harmless.
A man in plain robes sat near the village head.
Not a broker.
Not a farmer.
A minor clerk—county-level.
He didn't speak to Lin Yan.
He didn't need to.
He watched.
That evening, a bell rang.
Not loud.
Not urgent.
Slow.
Measured.
A funeral bell.
Old Madam Chen had passed away.
She'd been over seventy, childless, surviving on neighbors' kindness and weak porridge. No one was surprised—but everyone felt it.
In villages like this, death was a reminder.
Not of loss.
But of fragility.
The Lin family attended.
Lin Yan stood quietly at the back, observing.
The village head spoke briefly.
People bowed.
Some cried.
Some looked around, eyes sharp, calculating.
During the shared meal afterward, Lin Yan noticed whispers.
"Vegetables…"
"Sold at market…"
"They say officials came…"
Eyes flicked toward the Lin brothers.
Lin Dahu stiffened.
Lin Erniu clenched his jaw.
Lin Yan lowered his gaze, appearing tired, harmless.
A man in plain robes sat near the village head.
Not a broker.
Not a farmer.
A minor clerk—county-level.
He didn't speak to Lin Yan.
He didn't need to.
He watched.That night, Lin Dahu couldn't sleep.
He sat outside, sharpening a tool that didn't need sharpening.
Lin Yan joined him quietly.
"Scared?" Lin Yan asked.
Lin Dahu didn't deny it.
"I'm not scared of work," he said. "I'm scared of eyes."
Lin Yan nodded. "That's reasonable."
Lin Dahu looked at him. "You could've sold more. You didn't. You could've argued today. You didn't."
"Because strength invites challenge," Lin Yan replied. "And we don't have enough yet."
Lin Dahu was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "I'll back you."
Lin Yan looked up.
"Whatever you decide," Lin Dahu continued. "I'll do the work. I'll stand in front if needed."
That promise weighed more than copper coins.
"Thank you, big brother," Lin Yan said softly.
Late that night, the system panel appeared.
[Environmental Challenge Logged: Pest Pressure]
[Social Challenge Logged: Resource Conflict]
[Village Attention Level: Rising]
[New Passive Effect Unlocked: Basic Risk Awareness]
Host gains improved intuition toward environmental and social threats.
Lin Yan closed the panel.
He didn't smile.
He didn't relax.
He simply lay back and listened to the quiet sounds of the village—dogs barking, wind through leaves, distant coughing.
This chapter of his life wasn't about profit.
It was about survival under observation.
Tomorrow, he would reinforce the irrigation.
The day after, he would thin the crops.
Soon—very soon—he would need a second source of income.
Something quieter.
Something that didn't draw eyes.
As sleep finally took him, Lin Yan understood something clearly:
The land had accepted him.
Now, the village was deciding whether it would.
And the village… was only the beginning.