The seed merchant shop, "Grain of Gold," smelled of dust and dry wheat. It was a respectable establishment, the kind where scholars bought lotus seeds for their ponds and farmers bought millet for their fields.
When Li Wei walked in, wearing his wolf-pelt hat, muddy boots, and a coarse hemp robe, the air in the shop seemed to solidify. The shopkeeper, a portly man with a calculating abacus, looked up from his counter and visibly flinched.
"We don't buy beggar's herbs," the shopkeeper said dismissively, waving a hand. "Try the market outside the south gate."
"I'm here to buy," Li Wei said, his voice raspy but steady. He walked to the counter, the wooden boards creaking under his weight. He placed a small, heavy pouch on the table. *Clink.*
The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed. He opened the pouch and saw the glint of silver taels, mixed with copper coins.
"What do you need? Rice? We have good white rice from the south."
"I need grass seed," Li Wei said.
"Grass?" The shopkeeper laughed. "We have flower seeds. Chrysanthemums, orchids..."
"Not flowers. Fodder. Legumes. specifically, I want alfalfa if you have it, or clover. And ryegrass. Wild rye. Whatever you have that grows fast and likes water."
The shopkeeper stared at him as if he were mad. In the Great Liang, planting grass was considered insanity. Land was for food crops. Grass grew on its own.
"You want to plant weeds?" the shopkeeper asked, baffled. "Why? For your roof?"
"For my cattle," Li Wei said. "I have a credit voucher from the Zhao household."
He placed the folded paper Qingyu had given him on the counter. The shopkeeper unfolded it, saw the Magistrate's seal and Zhao Qingyu's elegant signature, and his attitude shifted instantly. The Zhao family was good for money.
"I... see," the shopkeeper stammered. "We have a sack of purple medick (alfalfa) in the back. It was a tribute from the western regions, meant for the military stables, but they rejected it because it was old. It's been sitting for two years. It's cheap, but the germination rate might be low."
"I'll take it," Li Wei said. "All of it. And I need a fast-growing native grass mix."
"Take the old alfalfa for free, just get it out of my warehouse," the shopkeeper muttered, desperate to clear the space. "But the credit is for thirty days."
"Thirty days is enough," Li Wei said. "Have it delivered to the Westland. North gate."
He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "And shopkeeper? If anyone asks... the Magistrate's son-in-law is planting a garden."
***
The valley adjacent to the Westland was a bleak, soggy scar on the landscape. Surrounded by hills, it acted as a catchment basin for the spring rains. The center was a quagmire of reeds and stagnant water, while the edges were choked with thorny bushes.
It was useless for wheat. It was useless for housing.
It was perfect for cattle.
Li Wei stood at the edge of the muck, holding a wooden stake and a hammer. Chen Hu was beside him, holding a roll of twine.
"We mark the main drainage ditch here," Li Wei said, driving a stake into the ground. "It runs straight down the middle to the river. We open the banks, let the water flow out. The soil underneath is silt—thousands of years of rotting leaves and river mud. It's the most fertile soil in the county."
"Boss," Chen Hu said, looking at the waist-deep water. "Digging this will take a hundred men a month. We have three. And the boy."
"We don't need to dig it all," Li Wei said, pulling a rough map from his pocket. "We use the water. We build a dam upstream, let the pressure build, then break it. The rush of water will carve the ditch for us. We just guide the direction."
Chen Hu's eyes widened. "Hydraulic mining? That is for gold mountains, not swamps."
"It works for swamps too," Li Wei grinned. "The Romans used it. We'll use it. But first, we need to clear the brush."
As Li Wei raised his hammer to drive the second stake, a shout echoed across the marsh.
"Oi! You there! Get away from that land!"
Li Wei stopped. He turned slowly.
A group of men was marching toward them. They were rough-looking, carrying pickaxes and shovels, not farming tools but heavy iron mining gear. Leading them was a greasy, rat-faced man Li Wei recognized—one of Uncle De's stewards.
"This is Zhao family land," the steward sneered, stopping ten feet away. "My master, Master Zhao De, has leased this valley to the Brick Kiln Association. We are here to survey for clay extraction."
"Your master does not own this land," Li Wei said calmly. "The Magistrate controls the lease. And this morning, I filed for an agricultural reclamation permit. The lease is mine."
The steward laughed, a wet, phlegmy sound. "Paper? You think paper stops a kiln? We need clay, pretty boy. And we have forty men coming to dig it up. If you try to stop us, we'll bury you in the mud."
He stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Li Wei's chest. "Take your cripple and your cow dung and get lost. Uncle De says you are finished here."
Li Wei didn't move. He looked at the finger, then at the steward.
"I am building a ranch," Li Wei said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If you dig up my pasture, you destroy my livelihood. That is an act of war."
"War?" The steward guffawed. "Look around! You have no army!"
Chen Hu stepped forward.
The big man didn't say a word. He simply reached down, picked up a large, water-logged log from the ground—a log that would take two normal men to lift—and tossed it aside like a twig. It landed with a heavy *thud* in the mud, splattering the steward's clean boots.
Chen Hu then rested his hand on the hilt of the long knife at his belt. His eyes were dead cold. The eyes of a man who had killed on the border.
"I can dig," Chen Hu said softly. "I can also bury."
The steward's laughter died in his throat. He looked at Chen Hu, then at the log, and took a step back.
"You... you're a madman! You're all madmen!" the steward shouted, trying to regain his dignity. "Fine! Keep the swamp! But when the rains come and it floods, don't come crying to us! And when the kiln workers arrive to dig, we won't be responsible for 'accidents'!"
He turned and marched his men away, grumbling about mud and crazy butchers.
Li Wei exhaled. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath.
"Intimidation only works for so long," Li Wei said. "We need to make this land productive, fast. If we turn this into a pasture by the end of the month, the kiln won't have a leg to stand on. No magistrate will allow a productive farm to be turned into a pit."
He looked at the sky. Dark clouds were gathering.
"Rain is coming," Li Wei said. "Chen Hu, get Sheng. We need the horses. And we need the dam."
***
The next three days were a blur of mud, water, and desperate physics.
Li Wei had identified a narrow choke point in the stream that fed the valley. Using dead wood, rocks, and mud, they built a makeshift dam. It wasn't pretty, but it held back a growing reservoir of water.
The valley floor was marked with lines of twine—the blueprint of the future irrigation channels.
"Sheng, check the strength of the dam!" Li Wei yelled over the wind.
"It's holding, Brother! But it's shaking!"
"Good," Li Wei said, standing by the main ditch they had started by hand. "We want it to shake."
He took his shovel. "Chen Hu! When I say break it, we cut the supports. The water needs to rush through *here*."
This was the gamble. If the water carved the ditch, they saved months of labor. If it flooded uncontrolled, they lost the valley.
"NOW!"
Chen Hu swung his axe. The wooden supports splintered.
*CRACK.*
The dam burst.
A wall of brown water surged forward, a roaring beast unleashed from its cage. It hit the marked channel with the force of a freight train.
*WHOOSH.*
Li Wei scrambled back as the water tore through the reeds and mud, scouring the earth. The sheer hydraulic force of the accumulated spring rains ripped through the swamp, dragging the muck and vegetation with it.
The sound was deafening. Trees snapped; earth groaned.
For an hour, they watched nature do the work of a hundred men. Slowly, the water level in the valley dropped, draining through the new, deep channel into the river below.
As the sun broke through the clouds in the late afternoon, the valley was transformed.
It was still wet, still messy. But the standing water was gone. In its place was a broad, flat expanse of dark, rich silt, carved with natural irrigation channels.
Exposed to the air, the soil steamed.
"It's... land," Sheng whispered, covered in mud from head to toe. "Real land."
Li Wei fell onto his back in the wet grass, exhausted but triumphant.
"Now we plant," Li Wei panted. "Broadcast the seeds. Every inch. The alfalfa loves wet feet. It will stabilize the soil."
He looked at the dark earth.
"Uncle De wanted clay," Li Wei laughed. "We gave him a meadow."
**[System Notification]**
**[Project Completed: Valley Drainage.]**
**[New Land Acquired: 50 Acres (High Fertility).]**
**[Pasture Status: Seeding in Progress.]**
**[Time until Grazable: 60 Days.]**
Two months. He had to keep the herd alive on weeds and swill for two more months. And he had to hold off Uncle De's "accidents."
Li Wei stood up, his boots squelching.
"Let's go home," he said. "I smell like a swamp monster."
As they walked back to the ranch, they saw a figure waiting by the gate.
It wasn't Uncle De's steward. It was a young man in the livery of the Imperial City.
"Li Wei?" the messenger asked, holding a sealed scroll.
"I am he."
"Invitation," the messenger said, handing over the scroll. "The Governor of the Prefecture is hosting a 'Taste of Spring' banquet in three days. The Magistrate and his family are invited. The Governor heard rumors of... unique beef in the Westland. He requests a sample."
Li Wei froze.
A sample.
He didn't have beef. He had cows he couldn't kill. Killing a healthy cow was a crime, unless it was old or injured. And his cows were too valuable to eat.
But he had to show something.
"Thank you," Li Wei said, taking the scroll.
He looked at Chen Hu.
"We have a problem," Li Wei said. "The Governor wants beef. If I serve him pork, I insult him. If I kill a cow, I break the law... or do I?"
He thought of the bull. The 'General'.
No, not him.
Then he remembered. The wolf attack. The injured cow that hadn't recovered fully. The one Chen Hu had put down humanely last week because her leg had gone septic.
"We have meat," Li Wei said. "Old Blossom's sister. The one who broke her leg in the snow. We butchered her for the dogs."
"That meat is tough," Chen Hu said. "Old cow. Stringy."
"Then we have to cook it right," Li Wei said, his mind racing. "Low and slow. Smoke. We're going to make the Governor an offer he can't refuse. And we're going to need a lot of spices."
The stakes had just been raised. It wasn't just about Uncle De anymore. The big leagues were calling.