The frost lingered in the shadows, refusing to yield to the pale morning sun. The ground was hard, crunching underfoot like broken pottery.
Chen Yuan stood in the center of the pasture, holding a contraption of wood and rope. It wasn't a modern yoke—far from it. It was a rough carved wooden beam, padded with layers of old hemp cloth, designed to sit across the shoulders of an ox.
But today, it wasn't for an ox.
Today, it was for the Black Bull.
"You're going to put that on *him*?" Little Stone asked, his voice trembling slightly. He stood a safe distance away, clutching a pitchfork. "The one that almost killed the trader?"
"He needs a job," Chen Yuan said, his voice calm but firm. "He's eating us out of house and home. A beast that eats must work. It's the law of the ranch."
Inside the secure pen, the Black Bull watched them. He stood like a statue of black iron, his breath misting in the cold air. The scrapes on his horns from the fence the previous night were already scabbing over.
Xu Tie stood by the gate, holding a long bamboo pole. "The key is the nose ring. The nose is the weak point. If he runs, you pull. Hard. It hurts, but it won't damage him. It controls the direction."
"I know," Chen Yuan adjusted the padding on the yoke. "I'm ready."
He opened the gate.
The bull didn't charge. It stepped forward, head low, sniffing the air. It smelled the oils Chen Yuan had rubbed on the yoke—rapeseed oil and mint. A scent meant to be calming.
"Easy, boy," Chen Yuan murmured. He didn't look the bull in the eye—that was a challenge. He looked at its shoulder.
He moved slowly, telegraphing every motion.
The bull snorted, tossing its head. The heavy iron nose ring glinted.
Chen Yuan moved closer. He reached out, not with the yoke, but with his hand. He let the bull sniff his palm. Then, he scratched the bull's forehead, a spot that was hard for the animal to reach.
The bull's eyelids drooped slightly. It leaned into the scratch.
*Now.*
Chen Yuan moved with the speed of a man who had spent years clicking mice but was now learning the rhythm of physical labor. He slid the wooden beam over the bull's neck and clicked the rope latch tight.
The bull stiffened.
"Walk!" Chen Yuan commanded, stepping to the side and tapping the bull's left flank.
The bull hated the weight. It bucked, kicking out with its hind legs.
*Thud.* The hooves missed Chen Yuan by inches.
"Hold the line!" Xu Tie shouted.
Chen Yuan didn't panic. He grabbed the lead rope attached to the nose ring and pulled it sharply to the right. The sudden pressure on the sensitive septum forced the bull's head to turn, breaking its balance.
The bull stumbled, forced to step sideways to relieve the pressure.
"Good!" Chen Yuan said, easing the tension instantly. "Walk!"
He tapped the flank again.
Confused by the pain in his nose and the sudden lack of pressure when he obeyed, the bull took a step forward.
Then another.
The heavy wooden sled Chen Yuan had attached to the yoke groaned as it scraped over the frozen dirt.
"He's moving!" Little Stone cheered.
"He's pulling," Chen Yuan corrected, sweat already beading on his forehead despite the cold. "Turn left."
He pulled the rope. The bull turned.
"Stop."
He pulled back and down. The bull stopped, huffing in annoyance, but stood still.
Chen Yuan exhaled, his legs trembling. It had worked. A killer bull, now a draft animal. It was crude, it was rough, but it was a start.
"We are officially a cattle drive," Chen Yuan said, patting the bull's sweaty neck. "Let's load him up. We have gravel to haul."
* * *
The morning was spent reinforcing the fence.
Using the bull to pull the sled loaded with stones from the riverbed was a revelation. Where the donkey would have struggled and balked, the bull leaned into the weight with raw, terrifying power. He didn't move fast—he moved with the inevitability of a landslide.
By noon, the eastern corner of the pasture had a new layer of drainage gravel, and the weak posts had been replaced with sturdy pine trunks.
"Good worker," Xu Tie admitted, watching the bull drink from the trough. "Fast learner. But he needs a name. 'The Bull' isn't right."
"He's big, he's black, and he's stubborn," Chen Yuan said, wiping mud from his hands. "Let's call him 'Hei Tan' (Black Carbon)."
"Hei Tan," Xu Tie tested the name. "Simple. Strong. Fitting."
While Hei Tan rested, Chen Yuan turned his attention to the next item on the list.
"Brother Xu, you mentioned the dogs?"
"This way," Xu Tie said.
They walked down to the edge of the village, to a dilapidated shack owned by Old Widow Ma. She was a scavenger who took in stray animals, selling the ones that survived to whoever would buy them.
In a muddy pen behind her house, a litter of puppies wrestled over a bone. They were scruffy, muddy things, a mix of unknown parentage.
"Mother died last week," Widow Ma said, eyeing Chen Yuan with a hopeful look. "They are weaned, but they need homes. Otherwise, I have to drown them."
Chen Yuan knelt by the pen. He didn't want a pedigree; he wanted grit.
*System, scan.*
**[Scanning Litter...]**
**[Subject 1: Male. timid. Low stamina.]**
**[Subject 2: Female. Dominant. High prey drive.]**
**[Subject 3: Male. Large paws. High pain tolerance. Loyal trait detected.]**
Chen Yuan reached in. The timid one hid. The dominant one snapped at his hand.
The third one, a gray-brown pup with a black mask around his eyes, walked up to him. It sniffed his boot, then looked up, tail wagging slowly. It let out a small, serious bark.
"You," Chen Yuan said, picking the pup up. The pup didn't struggle; it just licked his chin.
He picked up the female, the one that had snapped. She was fierce. She would make a good guard.
"I'll take these two," Chen Yuan said.
"The boy and the sharp one?" Widow Ma asked. "Good choice. The boy is quiet, but he bites hard. The girl... she has a temper."
"How much?"
"For two? Two hundred coins."
"Fifty," Chen Yuan bargained. "They are mutts. I'm saving you the trouble of drowning them."
"One hundred, and you take a bag of leftover millet husks for bedding."
"Deal."
Chen Yuan handed the pups to Little Stone, who had followed them down. "Hold them carefully. The gray one is 'Hui Hui' (Ash). The girl is 'Hu' (Tiger)."
"We have dogs now!" Little Stone beamed, cradling the wriggling bundles.
"Dogs need training," Xu Tie said ominously. "They are worse than bulls. They chew everything."
* * *
The afternoon brought the logistics of winter.
Chen Yuan, Chen Hu, and the bull—yoked to a borrowed large cart this time—traveled to the lowland farms at the base of the valley.
The rice harvest was in full swing. The fields were stubble, and huge stacks of rice straw dotted the landscape. For the rice farmers, straw was a byproduct—useful for feeding cows or making ropes, but often burned if there was too much.
Chen Yuan approached a farm overseer, a sun-baked man named Li.
"Selling straw?" Chen Yuan asked.
"I have tons," Overseer Li waved his hand. "But you have to haul it. And I need the field cleared by tomorrow for the next planting."
"I'll take ten carts' worth," Chen Yuan said. "I'll clear the field for you. I just take the straw."
"Ten carts?" Li laughed. "Boy, that's a mountain of straw. You'll be here all night."
"I have a bull," Chen Yuan said simply. "And I pay in labor. My men will help your men gather the bundles. We take the straw. Deal?"
Li blinked. Free labor? "Deal."
The work was grueling. Chen Yuan, Chen Hu, and two hired hands from the village worked alongside the farmhands, bundling the dry stalks.
Hei Tan, the bull, proved his worth a hundred times over. While other farmers used slow oxen or weary donkeys, Hei Tan pulled the heavy carts loaded with compressed straw bales with ease. He moved with a steady, rhythmic power that earned the respect of the seasoned farmers.
"Look at that beast," one farmer commented, wiping his brow. "That's not a plow ox. That's a war elephant."
"Good muscle," another nodded. "What do you feed him?"
"Special grass," Chen Yuan answered, sweating through his shirt.
By sunset, the field was clear, and ten massive loads of rice straw were lined up on the road.
"We can't haul it all today," Chen Hu panted, leaning on his knees. "We need to store it here and come back tomorrow."
"No," Chen Yuan said. He looked at the sky. The clear weather might not last. "We make two trips. Tonight. Light the lanterns."
"Tonight?!"
"Winter waits for no one," Chen Yuan said. "Let's go."
* * *
It was near midnight when the last cart of rice straw was unloaded into the large storage shed Chen Yuan had built on the hill.
The shed was packed to the rafters. The smell of dry straw filled the air—a scent that meant safety. It meant the animals would not starve in January.
Chen Yuan sat on a pile of straw, his body aching in places he didn't know existed. He was covered in dust and chaff.
Hei Tan stood in his pen, munching on a reward of fresh bean cake. He looked content.
Xu Tie walked in, carrying two bowls of hot porridge that Liu Shi had kept warm on the stove.
"You pushed them hard today," Xu Tie said, handing a bowl to Chen Yuan.
"We got the hay," Chen Yuan said, slurping the hot liquid. It warmed his frozen core. "Now we just need the bean cakes. And the socks."
He looked at the pile of straw. It wasn't gold, but it was close.
"The family did good," Chen Yuan said softly. "Hu didn't complain once. Even Little Stone helped load the carts."
"They see the future," Xu Tie said. "They see the bull working. They see the money coming. They trust you."
He sat down next to Chen Yuan.
"The puppies are sleeping in the kitchen tonight," Xu Tie added. "Wang Shi yelled, but when the girl pup killed a rat, she let them stay."
"Progress," Chen Yuan smiled.
He looked out the open door of the shed. The moon was bright, illuminating the frost-covered hills.
He had a bull that pulled sleds. He had dogs that killed rats. He had a shed full of hay. He had a contract for socks.
The ranch was no longer just a dream or a shed on a hill. It was becoming an organism. A breathing, working entity.
"Tomorrow," Chen Yuan said, finishing his porridge. "Tomorrow I check on Hope. And I need to write a letter to the Benevolent Hall. I want to raise the price of the soil for the winter batch."
"Raise the price?" Xu Tie asked. "The Steward won't like that."
"Winter is hard," Chen Yuan said. "Transport is difficult. The cold kills the bacteria if we aren't careful. I need to pay the workers more to work in the snow. It's not greed; it's cost."
He stood up, his joints popping.
"Sleep well, Brother Xu. Tomorrow, we build the second pasture fence."
"You never stop," Xu Tie shook his head, though his eyes were amused.
"If I stop, the wolves win," Chen Yuan said.
He walked out into the cold night, heading for the house. The path was dark, but he knew every stone, every turn. This was his land. His ranch.
And he wouldn't trade it for any office in the capital.