Morning arrived with noise.
Not shouting—argument.
Lin Yan was halfway through checking the pasture fence when raised voices came from the western edge of the grassland. He didn't hurry. He finished tying the rope first, then walked over.
Two villagers stood there, faces red, hands waving. Between them, the grass was flattened in a messy circle.
"You let your cow wander," one accused.
"And you drove your goats through my patch!" the other snapped.
Lin Yan stepped between them.
"Stop," he said—not loud, but firm.
They both fell silent.
He looked at the ground. The damage was real. Young grass crushed before it could root deeply.
"This," Lin Yan said, "is why grass needs rules."
One man scoffed. "Rules don't feed people."
Lin Yan nodded once. "Neither does anger."
He turned to the first man. "Your cow broke the rope?"
The man hesitated. "Yes."
"To the second," Lin Yan continued, "you chased it through the pasture?"
"…Yes."
Lin Yan picked up a small wooden peg and pressed it into the soil.
"Damage happened," he said. "So compensation happens."
They stared.
"The cow owner repairs the fence. The goat owner supplies feed for three days."
Both opened their mouths to protest.
Lin Yan raised his hand.
"No arguing. This is ranch rule."
They swallowed their words.
Old Chen, who had arrived quietly, chuckled. "Fast judgment. Fair enough."
The villagers left grumbling—but they left.
Later that day, Lin Yan did something unusual.
He slaughtered a chicken.
Not for sale.
For teaching.
The family gathered. Even neighbors lingered at a distance.
Lin Yan worked cleanly. No wasted motion. No unnecessary mess.
Blood soaked into the soil, darkening it.
"This feeds the land," Lin Yan said as he buried the remains. "Nothing should be thrown away."
His mother watched silently, hands clasped.
That evening, pork appeared again.
Not much.
Just enough.
The youngest brother ate slower now, chewing thoughtfully.
"Third Brother," he said, "meat feels different."
"How?" Lin Yan asked.
"Before, it felt lucky," the boy replied. "Now it feels… planned."
Lin Yan smiled faintly. "That's the difference between chance and control."
As dusk fell, Lin Yan sat outside wearing something new.
A leather hat.
Rough. Wide-brimmed. Practical.
Old Chen raised an eyebrow. "You look strange."
"It keeps the sun off," Lin Yan replied.
"And makes you look like a herder from the western plains," Old Chen added.
Lin Yan adjusted the brim. "Good."
That night, the system interface appeared once more.
[Authority: Established]
[Pasture Conflict Resolution: Successful]
[Cultural Marker Unlocked: Ranch Identity]
Lin Yan looked toward the dark pasture, the quiet pig pen, the distant road.
Grass grew. Blood fed soil. Rules held people in place.
And for the first time, the ranch felt less like an experiment—
and more like a way of life.