The celebration of the Summer Solstice faded into the rhythm of hard labor.
July in the Westland was brutal. The sun, once a welcome friend that chased away the winter chill, became a tyrant. The lush green of the ryegrass began to bleach slightly under the intense glare, and the stream—the lifeblood of the ranch—shrank from a rushing river to a thin, nervous trickle.
Water was the limit.
Li Shun stood on the ridge overlooking the southern valley. This was the land he wanted to buy next. It was flatter, wider, perfect for hay production. But it was dry. The water table was deep, and hauling buckets up from the lowland stream was inefficient.
He pulled up his system interface, studying the blueprint he had unlocked.
**[BLUEPRINT: WATER IRRIGATION WINDMILL]**
**[TYPE: POST MILL (VERTICAL AXIS)]**
**[FUNCTION: MECHANICAL PUMPING]**
**[MATERIALS: TIMBER, CLOTH (SAILS), IRON FITTINGS, STONE FOUNDATION]**
In his old life, windmills were picturesque relics of the past or industrial giants. Here, they were non-existent. The Great Liang Dynasty relied on water wheels in rivers or manual labor. The concept of capturing the wind to move water was alien.
"Ming'er," Li Shun called, rolling up the blueprint. "I need you to go to the prefecture again. Not for supplies, but for a craftsman."
"A craftsman?" Li Ming wiped the sweat from his brow. "We are already low on silver."
"We have enough for this. I need a wheelwright. Someone who understands gears and axles. Not a carpenter—a mechanic."
Li Ming looked confused but nodded. "I know a man in the lower city. He fixes grain mills. He drinks a lot, but his hands are steady."
"Bring him. And buy all the heavy canvas you can find."
---
The construction of the windmill was a comedy of errors and a triumph of stubbornness.
The wheelwright, a grizzled old man named Old Wu, arrived three days later, already half-drunk. He looked at the plans Li Shun had drawn—vanes set at angles, a crankshaft converting rotary motion into vertical movement—and laughed.
"Young Master, you want to make wind push water? Water flows down. It doesn't go up."
"It does if you force it," Li Shun said patiently. He pointed to the hill. "The wind up there never stops. It blows day and night. We just need to harness it."
Old Wu spat on the ground. "It's a fool's errand. But you pay silver, I build."
They felled four massive pine trees for the main posts. The structure was essentially a large hut sitting on a central pivot, allowing it to be turned into the wind.
The hardest part was the crankshaft and the pump. Li Shun used the system's diagnostic tools to guide the forging of the iron components. The blacksmith in town thought he was insane when he asked for a "slotted link" that could turn rotation into linear motion.
"This metal will bind," the blacksmith warned.
"Grease it with pig fat," Li Shun replied.
For a week, the ranch sounded like a construction site. Sawing, hammering, and the arguing of Old Wu filled the air. Han Qiang helped with the heavy lifting, his strength making the erection of the massive frame possible.
Old Zhang watched from the side, shaking his head. "A giant fan. We are building a giant fan to cool the sun."
---
Finally, the machine stood.
It was an ugly, utilitarian thing. A boxy wooden tower, twenty feet high, with four massive arms covered in coarse canvas sails. It sat on the crest of the ridge, facing the valley.
"Ready?" Li Shun asked.
Old Wu, sober now due to the sheer terror of what he was witnessing, nodded tightly. "The pump rod is in the well. The pipe is sealed."
Li Shun turned the capstan at the base, rotating the entire structure. The canvas sails creaked, then fluttered.
A strong gust of wind swept across the ridge.
*Thump-thump-thump-thump.*
The sails began to rotate. Slowly at first, then gathering speed. The gears inside the wooden housing groaned, a deep, rhythmic sound like a heartbeat.
The long iron rod connecting the mill to the well began to reciprocate—moving up and down with mechanical precision.
"Look!" Li Ming shouted, pointing to the outlet pipe near the trough.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a gush of brown, muddy water spat out.
*Cough.*
Then, a steady, clear stream burst forth.
Water gushed into the wooden trough, filling it in seconds, then overflowing into the irrigation ditch Li Shun had dug.
"By the ancestors..." Old Wu whispered. His hands trembled. "It's... it's pumping. It's bringing the water up!"
The flow was strong. Much stronger than a man with a bucket. It was a river brought down from the sky.
**[SYSTEM ALERT]**
**[CONSTRUCTION COMPLETE: WINDMILL IRRIGATION SYSTEM]**
**[EFFICIENCY: 80% (NEEDS LUBRICATION)]**
**[WATER OUTPUT: 500 GALLONS PER HOUR]**
**[FARMING EFFICIENCY INCREASED BY 300%]**
"We did it," Li Ming yelled, dancing around. "Brother, look! The water!"
Han Qiang leaned on his shovel, a small smile on his face. "That is a lot of water. We can fill the troughs without hauling buckets."
Li Shun clapped Old Wu on the back. "You thought it was impossible. Now, I want you to build me two more."
Old Wu stared at him, then at the gushing water, then back at him. "More?"
"We have a whole valley to irrigate," Li Shun grinned. "Get back to work."
---
With the water crisis solved, the ranch exploded with life.
The irrigation ditches fed the lower pastures, keeping the grass green even in the July heat. But Li Shun's attention was shifting to the herd.
It was breeding season.
Hei Bao had been patient. He had been grazing alongside the cows, separated only by a single rail fence. But as the summer heat peaked, the bull became restless.
He paced the fence line. He pawed the earth, leaving deep trenches. He bellowed—a deep, resonant sound that echoed for miles.
"He's ready," Han Qiang noted, watching the bull from the porch. "He's been eating that protein grass for three months. He's a tank."
Li Shun looked at Hei Bao. The bull was truly magnificent now. His black coat gleamed like oil. The hump over his shoulders was massive. He weighed nearly a ton.
**[SYSTEM STATUS: HEI BAO]**
**[BREEDING READINESS: 100%]**
**[GENETIC POTENTIAL: HIGH]**
**[OFFSPRING PREDICTION: CALVES WILL EXHIBIT DOMINANT TRAITS (BLACK HIDE, MARBLING PREDISPOSITION).]**
"It's time to let him do his job," Li Shun said.
He opened the gate.
Hei Bao didn't rush. He stepped through the gap like a king entering his throne room. He walked to the center of the cow pasture and let out a low, vibrating moo.
The cows stopped grazing. They turned to look at him.
The matriarch of the herd, the cow Li Ming called 'Flower', stepped forward first. She had recovered fully from her bloat incident and was now the healthiest of the group.
Hei Bao approached her. He sniffed her flank, then rested his chin on her back. It was a gesture of dominance, but also of gentleness.
"He's not fighting them," Li Ming observed, surprised. "I thought he would charge."
"He's confident," Li Shun said. "He knows he owns this pasture. He doesn't need to fight."
Over the next few days, the herd dynamic shifted. Hei Bao managed the cows with surprising intelligence. He kept them together, driving strays back to the group. He tasted the grass before the cows ate, seemingly checking the quality.
*He's acting like a true herd sire,* Li Shun thought. *The system didn't just give him good genes; it gave him intelligence.*
But the expansion brought new problems.
Li Shun stood by the windmill one evening, watching the sun dip below the hills. He had a herd of fifteen cattle, plus the bull. He had two horses. He had four humans.
He was out of space. Not land space—he had the deed for 100 mu—but *mental* space.
"I can't do this alone," he muttered to Han Qiang. "I need more men. The fences need repair daily. The grass needs cutting. The manure needs to be moved."
"Refugees?" Han Qiang suggested. "There are always people fleeing the northern tax collectors."
"I don't want just anyone," Li Shun said. "I need people who can follow orders. People who aren't afraid of hard work."
Han Qiang hesitated. "I... I might know a place. In the city slums. There are discharged soldiers like me. Men who came back from the border with nothing but scars and nightmares. They drink away their pain because they have no purpose."
He looked at Li Shun.
"You gave me a purpose, Rancher Li. Maybe... you can give them one too."
Li Shun looked at his right-hand man. Han Qiang had been a shell of a man when they met. Now, he was the ranch's rock.
"Take the cart tomorrow," Li Shun decided. "And a pouch of silver. Bring back the ones who want to work. I'll feed them. I'll house them. And I'll teach them how to be cowboys."
---
The next afternoon, Han Qiang returned with three men.
They were a rough-looking bunch. One was missing an ear. Another had a burn scar covering half his face. The third was young, barely twenty, but walked with a limp.
They stood in a line before Li Shun, looking at the ground, shoulders hunched.
"This is it?" Li Shun asked, walking down the line.
"These are the ones who said yes," Han Qiang said. "The others were too drunk to walk."
Li Shun stopped in front of the young one with the limp. "Name?"
"Wang Da," the boy mumbled. "Former infantry."
"Can you ride a horse?"
"I can learn."
"Can you lift a hay bale?"
"I can try."
Li Shun nodded. He pointed to the cabin. "There is stew in the pot. Eat. Then Han Qiang will show you the bunkhouse. We start work at dawn. You will be paid five silver taels a month, with food and board. If you steal, you're gone. If you slack off, you're gone. If you mistreat an animal, I will break your other leg. Understood?"
The three men looked up, surprised by the harsh terms but drawn by the promise of food and a roof.
"Understood," they said in unison.
Li Shun turned to Han Qiang. "Start them on fence repair. It's simple work. If they survive a week, we teach them to ride."
He looked out at the horizon. The windmill creaked rhythmically in the breeze. The cattle lowed in the distance. The smell of pine and sagebrush filled the air.
*The Westland is growing,* he thought. *A bull, a mill, and a crew.*
He looked at the system's main objective.
**[RANCH LEVEL: 2]**
**[POPULATION: 7 HUMANS / 16 CATTLE / 1 SHEEP / 2 HORSES]**
**[REPUTATION: LOCAL TALK (CLEARWATER COUNTY)]**
*Level 2,* he mused. *Only 698 levels to go until I hit the capital.*
He chuckled to himself and walked toward the cabin to join his men for dinner.