The wind howled through the cracks in the shed walls, swirling small drifts of snow across the dirt floor. Li Wei knelt in the freezing muck, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. He had given his coat to the calf, and the cold was now seeping into his own bones, a constant, aching reminder of his frail new body.
"Hurry, Father," Li Wei muttered through numb lips, his hands moving rhythmically over the calf's chest. He was using a technique from his past life—a vigorous rub to stimulate circulation and lung function.
The calf let out a low, rattling wheeze.
**[System Alert: Target body temperature dropping. Survival probability decreasing to 2%.]**
"Shut up," Li Wei growled internally. He didn't need a magical screen to tell him the animal was dying. He could see the grey pallor of its gums.
Footsteps crunched on the frost outside. Li Dazhuang returned, holding a dented iron basin. Steam rose from the water inside.
"Took you long enough," Li Wei said, not looking up. He snatched a relatively clean rag from a hook on the wall. "Dip this in the water. Wring it out. Put it on the calf's flank. Now."
Li Dazhuang bristled at being ordered around by his son, but the desperation in Li Wei's voice made him pause. He dipped the rag and placed the warm compress on the shivering animal.
"Why are we doing this?" Li Dazhuang asked, his voice rough. "It's a beast, boy. It doesn't know to be warm."
"It knows," Li Wei replied, focusing on the calf's ribcage. He adjusted his pressure. "Its instincts are just buried under the cold. We have to wake them up."
For the next hour, they worked in silence. The water cooled, and Li Dazhuang had to run back to the house twice to reheat it. Li Wei didn't stop. His fingers were raw and red, his knees aching from the hard ground.
*This is the difference between a farmer and a rancher,* Li Wei thought, wiping sweat from his forehead despite the freezing air. *A farmer hopes for a harvest. A rancher fights for every head of stock.*
Inside his mind, the System interface flickered.
**[Target Vital Signs Stabilizing...]**
**[Survival Probability: 15%...]**
**[Requirement: Calorie intake necessary for sustained recovery.]**
"It's stabilizing, but it needs food," Li Wei said, sitting back on his heels. "Mother cow hasn't been feeding it?"
"The mother is stubborn," Li Dazhuang grunted, wiping his hands on his trousers. "She kicks whenever the calf gets near. We tried to force it, but she nearly trampled the little one."
Li Wei stood up, his legs tingling. He walked over to the stall where the old ox and the mother cow were tied. The mother cow, a scrawny yellow beast with dull eyes, watched him warily. She stamped a hoof, blowing a puff of steam from her nose.
"She's in pain," Li Wei observed instantly. He looked closer at her hindquarters. "Her udder is swollen. Hard. Mastitis."
"Mast-what?" Li Dazhuang asked.
"An infection. In the teats," Li Wei explained, pointing. "It hurts her when the calf tries to suckle, so she kicks. She thinks the calf is hurting her."
He walked over to a pile of farm tools in the corner. He found what he was looking for—a rough, ceramic jar. He sniffed it. Rapeseed oil.
"Get me a bucket," Li Wei commanded.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to milk her," Li Wei said, rolling up his sleeves. "If the calf is too weak to fight for it, we have to bring the milk to him."
"Have you lost your mind?" Li Dazhuang stepped forward. "She's wild with pain! She'll break your arm!"
"Not if I do it right." Li Wei grabbed a stool and the bucket. He approached the cow from the side, low and slow. He didn't look her in the eye—that was a challenge. He hummed a low, tuneless melody, a sound he used to calm spooked horses in Montana.
The cow tensed, her muscles rippling.
Li Wei reached out, not for the udder, but for her flank. He began to massage the swollen area gently, applying the warm oil from the jar he'd brought over.
The cow shifted, kicking out, but Li Wei was ready. He dodged the hoof with a practiced sway, jumping back.
"Boy, be careful!"
"Her udder is blocked," Li Wei said, his voice calm. "The milk is backing up. That's why she has no milk for the calf. I have to clear the blockage."
He approached again. This time, he worked faster, his hands firm but gentle. He wasn't just a farm boy anymore; he had the muscle memory of a man who had milked a thousand cows. The System highlighted the exact spot of the blockage in his vision—a red knot of tissue.
**[Technique: Milking Efficiency (Basic) applied.]**
**[System Assisting: Neural synchronization with Host's muscle memory.]**
Suddenly, a thin stream of yellowish, clotted milk sprayed into the bucket. Then another. The cow lowed loudly, stamping her feet, but she didn't kick. The pressure was releasing.
"Look," Li Wei whispered. "She's letting down."
Slowly, the stream turned white and clear. The cow's heavy breathing began to slow, her ears flicking forward. The pain was easing.
Li Dazhuang stood by the stall door, his mouth slightly open. He had been a farmer for forty years. He had seen animals die from "bad milk" dozens of times. He had never seen anyone *fix* it with just hands and oil.
Li Wei filled a small wooden bowl with the warm, frothy milk. He carried it back to the calf.
"Come on, partner," Li Wei murmured, dipping his fingers into the milk and letting it drip into the calf's mouth. "This is the good stuff. Expensive stuff."
The calf's nose twitched. Its tongue flicked out, tasting the rich fat. A spark of life returned to its dull eyes.
**[Target Consuming Nutrients. Survival Probability: 65% and rising.]**
Li Wei let out a breath he felt he'd been holding for a century. He sat down heavily on the straw floor, the exhaustion of the rebirth and the cold finally catching up to him. He shivered violently.
Without a word, Li Dazhuang took off his own thick, padded jacket and draped it over his son's shoulders. The jacket smelled of old tobacco and sweat, but it was warm.
"How did you know how to do that?" Li Dazhuang asked, his voice quiet. There was no anger now, only confusion and a grudging respect.
Li Wei pulled the jacket tight. He looked up at his father, his eyes reflecting the dim lamplight.
"I... I read about it. In an old book the scholar left behind when he passed through," Li Wei lied smoothly. It was a convenient excuse for the knowledge he shouldn't possess. "And I watched her. Animals tell you what they need if you look close enough."
Li Dazhuang looked at the calf, which was now trying to lift its head. Then he looked at the bucket of milk.
"Can we drink this?" his father asked, practical as ever.
"No," Li Wei said firmly. "It goes to the calf. We need him strong by spring. If we drink his lifeblood, we have steak for a day and a plow ox short for the season."
Li Dazhuang grunted, nodding slowly. "You speak strange tonight, Wei. Words like 'partners' and 'ranch'. But... you saved the beast."
He picked up the empty water basin. "Come inside. Your mother has saved a bowl of bark soup for you. And... don't tell your mother about the milk yet. She is too hungry. If she knows there is milk..."
"I know," Li Wei said. "I won't tell."
Li Wei stood up, his legs wobbling. He looked at the calf one last time. It was breathing evenly now.
**[Mission Complete: First Life Saved.]**
**[Reward: 10 Ranch Points.]**
**[Store Unlocked: Basic Category.]**
Li Wei felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the jacket. He had points. He had a system. And most importantly, he had just proven to his hardest critic—his father—that he wasn't useless.
As they walked back toward the house, Li Dazhuang placed a heavy hand on Li Wei's shoulder.
"Your hands are cold," the father said gruffly. "Get by the fire. We have a long winter ahead."
Li Wei nodded. "Yes, Father."
He looked up at the dark, starless sky. The wind was still biting, and the tax collector was still coming. But for the first time since he woke up in this ancient hell, Li Wei felt the stirrings of a plan. If he could save a dying calf with nothing but hot water and willpower, he could save this family.
*Step one: survive the winter,* he thought. *Step two: lease the land.*
He stepped through the door into the smoky warmth of the house, ready to face the hunger again.