The "Great Weed Harvest" became the talk of Qinghe County, though not for the reasons Li Wei might have hoped.
"Sheep food! He's feeding cattle sheep food!"
The嘲笑 (mockery) drifted from the roadside, but Li Wei paid it no mind. He stood atop the ridge, watching a human chain of farmers—paid in the very "black gold" compost they had bought earlier—marching up the hill with baskets of green cuttings.
Pigweed, lambsquarters, young nettles, and dandelion leaves. To the traditional farmer, these were the enemies of the wheat field, pests to be hoed and burned. To Li Wei, they were a superfood.
"Dump it in the troughs!" Li Wei ordered. "Mix it with the last of the bran! Don't let it wilt!"
The cattle didn't share the humans' skepticism. As the pungent, green piles were dumped into the feeders, the cows went wild. The high moisture content of the fresh greens, combined with the protein density of the weeds, triggered a feeding frenzy.
Even 'General', the Black Bull, abandoned his usual stoic demeanor. He buried his nose in the pile, emerging with a mouthful of nettles, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction.
"Look at them," Sheng laughed, sitting on a fence post. "They eat like they've been starving for months, even though they're fatter than last year."
"Green feed triggers a hormonal response," Li Wei explained, wiping his hands on his trousers. "It tells their bodies that spring is here. It tells their metabolism to speed up. They'll put on muscle faster now than at any other time of the year."
He looked at the 'General'.
**[System Analysis]**
**[Target: Black Bull 'General']**
**[Weight: 820 kg (+40kg in 2 weeks)]**
**[Coat Condition: Excellent.]**
**[Muscle Density: Increasing.]**
**[Status: Ready for light training.]**
Li Wei's eyes narrowed. *Training.*
In the American West, a ranch horse was a partner. But in the Great Liang, horses were for war or pulling carriages. The idea of a "cow horse"—a horse trained to separate cattle, react to a rider's leg pressure, and sprint after a stray—was nonexistent.
"I need a saddle," Li Wei muttered.
***
The workshop was cluttered with offcuts of bamboo and scraps of leather. Li Wei sat on a stool, carving a piece of oak.
He was trying to build a saddle tree—the skeleton of the saddle. The traditional Chinese saddle was flat and wide, designed for a passenger to sit comfortably for hours, not for a rider to work.
Li Wei needed a "fork" saddle. A high pommel (front) and cantle (back) to lock the rider in during sharp turns.
"Boss," Chen Hu entered, holding a bag of nails. "The blacksmith asks if you are mad. You want a horn on the front? A piece of wood sticking up? It will bruise the rider's stomach."
"It's not for my stomach," Li Wei said, shaving the wood. "It's for the rope."
He picked up a length of rough hemp rope. "When I rope a cow, I need to dally—wrap the rope around the horn. The horn takes the weight, not my arm. If I try to hold a running calf with just my hands, my arms will be ripped from their sockets."
Chen Hu looked at the rope, then at the carving. He had been a soldier; he understood leverage and physics.
"It changes the center of gravity," Chen Hu mused. "High front, low back. It pushes the rider forward. Good for... action."
"Exactly. Help me shape this."
They worked through the afternoon. Li Wei didn't have the specialized rawhide to cover the tree, so he used layers of tightly woven canvas soaked in lacquer, then covered that with the sheepskin he had tanned. It was ugly—a strange, bulbous shape that looked like a deformed mushroom—but it was functional.
He carried the saddle out to the corral where the two swaybacked horses stood.
"Time to earn your keep, Old Grey," Li Wei said, slapping the neck of the older mare.
He threw the saddle onto her back. She flinched, unaccustomed to the weight and the tight cinch around her belly.
"Easy," Li Wei crooned, pulling the cinch tight. He didn't tie a standard knot; he used a quick-release knot he remembered from safety manuals. "If you fall, I fall. Let's not make it permanent."
He mounted.
It felt different. He sat deeper, his legs positioned further forward. He picked up the makeshift reins.
"Chen Hu, open the gate to the south pasture. Let's move the herd."
***
Moving cattle in the Great Liang usually involved a dozen men shouting and waving branches. It was chaos.
Li Wei wanted to do it with one man and one horse.
He nudged Old Grey with his heels. The horse, surprised by the aggressive stance, trotted forward.
Li Wei rode into the herd. The cows looked up.
"Hyah!"
He guided the horse not by pulling the reins, but by shifting his weight and tapping the horse's neck—the beginning of 'neck reining'. Old Grey was confused at first, stumbling, but she was a smart old mare. She realized that moving left relieved the pressure on her right neck.
Li Wei pushed the herd from the side. He didn't chase them; he rode into their 'flight zone'—the invisible bubble of space around a prey animal.
The herd bunched up. They started moving toward the open gate.
One of the younger heifers, rebellious and full of spring energy, broke from the group and bolted left.
"Stop!" Li Wei shouted.
Instinctively, he spun the horse. Old Grey, responding to the sudden shift in weight and the urgent tug of the rein, pivoted on her hind legs—a rollback.
They cut off the heifer. Li Wei didn't wave his arms. He just positioned the horse in her path. The heifer stopped, realized she was blocked, and turned back to the herd.
"Good," Li Wei whispered. "Good girl."
From the gate, Chen Hu watched with wide eyes. He saw not a scholar riding a nag, but a predator controlling the flow of the herd. It was silent. It was efficient.
"The Boss rides like a centaur," Chen Hu muttered to Sheng.
"He looks cool," Sheng admitted, watching his brother in the strange, bulky saddle. "Like a general on a chariot, but... smaller."
***
Li Wei dismounted near the water trough, his legs aching but his spirit soaring. He had just moved thirty head of cattle with minimal effort. He had established dominance. He was the Alpha.
As he was unsaddling the horse, a shadow fell over him.
"Interesting technique."
Li Wei looked up. It was Zhao Qingyu. She had arrived silently, accompanied only by a single maid.
She was not wearing the stiff formal robes of the city. Today, she wore a practical, pale yellow riding habit, her hair tied back in a single, long braid. It was the first time Li Wei had seen her dressed for movement.
"Wife," Li Wei nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "You came to inspect the weeds?"
"I came to inspect the accounts," she corrected, though her eyes lingered on the strange saddle on the ground. "And to see if the rumors were true. They say you are feeding the cattle garbage and riding like a madman."
"The 'garbage' is premium forage," Li Wei said, gesturing to the troughs where the cows were contentedly munching. "And the 'madman' riding just saved you the wages of five herders."
He walked over to the fence. "Look at the herd, Qingyu. Really look."
She approached the corral. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden light.
She looked at the cows. Not at their generic shape, but at the details.
The ribs were no longer visible. The coats were glossy, shimmering with health. The eyes were bright.
"They look... happy," she admitted, a note of surprise in her voice. "Better than the oxen in the government stables."
"And look at this," Li Wei said. He led her to 'Little Treasure', the dwarf heifer.
The little cow was almost comical in her proportions—short legs, blocky body, deep chest. But she was sleek and energetic.
"She is the future," Li Wei said. "The meat from this cow... it will be different. It will be tender. It will melt. The merchants will fight for it."
He turned to Qingyu. "I need to expand. The weeds are a stopgap. I need to plant real pasture."
"Money?" Qingyu asked dryly. "You have less than ten taels."
"I don't need money," Li Wei said. "I need credit. I need to buy seed. Ryegrass, clover. I need to rent the land adjacent to the Westland—the low valley."
"The valley is swampy," she said. "It floods in spring."
"Perfect," Li Wei said. "Grass loves water. I can drain it with ditches. I just need the lease."
Qingyu studied him. The wind blew a strand of hair across her face. She brushed it away impatiently.
"Uncle De controls the valley lease," she said. "He has been talking to the brick kiln about it."
"Of course he has," Li Wei sighed.
"But," Qingyu continued, looking him in the eye. "As the Magistrate's daughter, I have the right to petition the land office directly for agricultural development. If I sign off on the drainage plan, Uncle De cannot block it without looking like he is hindering progress."
Li Wei blinked. "You would do that?"
"It is a good investment," she said, her voice cool again. "If you fail, I lose the valley. But if you succeed, the value of the Westland triples. It is a calculated risk."
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small, folded paper.
"Here. A list of seed merchants in the city. Tell them the Zhao family sent you. They will give you credit for thirty days."
Li Wei took the paper. It was a lifeline.
"Thank you, Qingyu."
She turned to leave. Then she paused.
"That hat," she said, gesturing to the wolf-pelt hat lying on the fence. "It is... distinct. Wear it in the city tomorrow. Let people see you. Let them see the 'Rancher'. It is better they fear the wolf than pity the beggar."
She walked away, mounting her own horse—a beautiful white mare—with practiced grace.
Li Wei watched her go. She wasn't just a cold wife. She was a partner. A difficult, demanding partner, but a partner nonetheless.
**[System Update]**
**[Relationship Status: Zhao Qingyu (Friendly/Suspicious -> Strategic Ally).]**
**[New Quest: The Valley Lease.]**
**[Reward: Pasture Expansion Unlocked.]**
Li Wei picked up his hat and put it on. He looked at the setting sun.
"Sheng! Chen Hu! We have a lease to secure and a swamp to drain. Tomorrow, we work twice as hard."
He patted the strange saddle. The West was coming to the East, one weed at a time.