The market broker's name was Liu Yuwen.
He was not a large man. Not tall, not imposing, not the sort that made crowds part with a glance. But he had sharp eyes, sharp ears, and an even sharper sense of opportunity.
In market towns, that mattered more than strength.
He sat in a quiet teahouse near the center of the town, fingers tapping the table rhythmically. A pot of lukewarm tea sat untouched in front of him.
A young clerk approached. "Master Liu, the tax office sent someone this morning."
"I know," Liu Yuwen replied calmly. "What did they want?"
"Confirmation."
Liu Yuwen's eyebrow twitched. "About the vegetables?"
"Yes."
He clicked his tongue and leaned back.
"So fast," he murmured.
It wasn't surprising—but it was inconvenient.
Food shortages were always monitored. A season of bad harvests could cripple a county. A village suddenly producing vegetables would normally be good news—
If sold through official channels.
But any household bypassing the merchant guild risked destabilizing prices.
That was why he had gone to investigate the Lin family.
And why their sudden disappearance from the marketplace made him suspicious.
He poured himself a cup of tea and took a slow sip.
"Prepare the ledger," he said softly. "We'll visit Shuangxi Village."
The clerk blinked. "Personally?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
The clerk hesitated. "But sir… the vegetables were only a few bundles. Maybe it isn't worth—"
"Everything is worth something if it appears at the wrong time."
The clerk swallowed hard.
Liu Yuwen set his cup down gently.
"Shuangxi Village," he said again. "Small, poor, quiet. If they've begun producing out-of-season greens… the tax office will want answers."
Back in the Village
Shuangxi Village was never truly quiet, but the noise was never loud either—just the soft rhythm of living: hens clucking, children arguing weakly, water sloshing in buckets.
Lin Yan sat outside the house, trimming dead leaves from a basin of harvested greens. His hands moved slowly but precisely.
His mother washed clothes beside him, humming faintly.
His father was at the field with the older brothers, adjusting irrigation channels.
Everything looked peaceful.
But beneath it, something taut lingered.
Lin Yan felt it in the air.
He felt it in the soil.
And the system confirmed it an hour later:
[External Entities Approaching Village]
Estimated Arrival: 1 day
Potential Intent: Inquiry / Market Monitoring
He exhaled slowly.
So it begins.
He didn't panic.
He didn't change anything immediately.
But he prepared.
That Evening
At dinner, the mood was warm.
Steam rose from the pot.
Vegetables simmered with a tiny pinch of salt—just enough to brighten the flavor.
"Yan'er," his mother said, "you harvested more today."
"Yes."
"Is it safe to sell?"
"No," he replied calmly. "Not now."
His father frowned. "Why?"
"Because the market shifts too quickly," Lin Yan explained. "And someone already noticed we stopped selling."
"How do you know?" Lin Dahu asked.
Lin Yan kept his tone level. "Someone asked around."
There was silence.
Then Lin Erniu cursed under his breath. "Why do they care about us? We sold so little."
"Because scarcity makes small things big," Lin Yan said simply.
His father rubbed his face.
"Tomorrow," Lin Yan continued, "we should work like normal. But we won't take anything to the market."
His family exchanged looks but didn't argue.
Trust had formed—thin but real.
Lin Yan felt something warm in his chest.
In his previous life, he had never been trusted.
Now, he was responsible.
Midnight Thoughts
Lin Yan lay awake, staring at the cracked ceiling.
He replayed the earlier system alert.
External entities.
Not soldiers.
Not inspectors.
Market agents.
He had met enough agents in his past life—different world, similar behavior: they preyed on weakness and obedience. But here, everything was tied to land, grain, and taxes.
The county didn't care about hardship.
It cared about stability.
If a random household's vegetables affected market prices—it could trigger a chain reaction:
Merchants complain → guild complains → tax office steps in → county magistrate notices.
Lin Yan did not intend to climb that chain.
Not now.
Not yet.
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
"We stay small," he murmured. "We stay quiet."
The system hummed faintly in response.
[Advisory: Recommend Diversifying Tasks While Limiting Output Visibility]
"Exactly," Lin Yan whispered.
The Next Morning
Wang Hu arrived before breakfast.
He looked unsettled.
"Lin Yan," he said in a low voice. "Someone's coming."
Lin Yan didn't ask how he knew.
Wang Hu had ears everywhere.
"When?" Lin Yan asked.
"Before midday."
Lin Yan nodded. "Thank you."
Wang Hu paused. "…You should hide what you're growing."
"No," Lin Yan said mildly.
"No?!" Wang Hu hissed. "What if they accuse you of hoarding? Or illegal sales?"
Lin Yan shook his head.
"Hiding will only make them suspicious. Showing them the truth—small, hardly enough for survival—will ease their worries."
Wang Hu stared at him.
"You speak like an old man," he muttered.
Lin Yan smiled faintly. "Experience comes in different forms."
Soon After, at the Village Entrance
A dust cloud rose from the road.
A small group approached: two assistants, and one man in plain but elegant robes.
Liu Yuwen.
He observed the village with quiet precision, taking in every detail: cracked houses, patched roofs, thin livestock, lean faces.
This village was struggling.
He expected nothing else.
But he was not here for the village.
He was here for one plot of land.
"Master Liu," the clerk whispered, "that boy—Lin Yan—he is the youngest son."
Liu Yuwen's eyes moved.
A thin youth stood at the edge of the field, leaning lightly on a wooden stick. His face was pale but alert, gaze sharp, posture calm.
Not a normal farmer's child.
Not a reckless seller.
Something in between.
Interesting.
The Meeting
Lin Yan bowed lightly. "Gentlemen. May I help you?"
"You may," Liu Yuwen replied without ceremony. "I heard your family grew vegetables out of season."
Lin Yan nodded. "A small amount."
"And sold some."
"Yes."
"Why did you stop?"
Lin Yan met his eyes. "Because we needed the food more than the coins."
A simple answer—obvious, sincere, believable.
Liu Yuwen studied him.
"May I see your field?"
Lin Yan stepped aside. "Of course."
They walked slowly.
Rows of vegetables lay neatly planted. Not crowded. Not lush. Healthy but modest.
It looked like the work of a cautious household, not a wealthy farm.
"This land was barren," Liu Yuwen said.
"Yes," Lin Yan replied.
"How did you revive it?"
Lin Yan paused.
"…Hard work."
The answer was vague, but not evasive.
He showed no guilt.
No fear.
No arrogance.
Just calm restraint.
Exactly what a poor family should show.
Liu Yuwen crouched and touched the soil.
Still thin.
Still weak.
Still a recovery in progress.
Nothing here suggested mass production.
"This is far less than reports suggested," he said.
Lin Yan blinked once. "Reports?"
"A misunderstanding, I'm sure."
Lin Yan lowered his gaze slightly. "We appreciate your concern."
Liu Yuwen examined him one last time.
A sickly youth.
Calm eyes.
Efficient speech.
Quiet intelligence.
Too interesting.
But harmless—at least for now.
He stood.
"No irregularities found," he said loudly for his assistants. "Proceed."
The men nodded.
Without further questioning, they left.
After They Were Gone
Wang Hu emerged from behind a fence.
"You handled that well," he muttered.
Lin Yan didn't answer immediately.
He watched the agents disappear down the road.
Only when they were out of sight did he speak.
"That man will come again."
Wang Hu stiffened. "Why?"
"Because men like him don't accept uncertainty," Lin Yan said quietly. "We gave him answers—but not patterns. He'll want to know if these vegetables were luck… or skill."
Wang Hu shivered.
"So what do you plan?"
Lin Yan looked back at his field.
"Attract neither envy nor suspicion."
"And how do we do that?"
Lin Yan smiled faintly.
"By growing steadily—but never too well."
Wang Hu stared at him, mind churning.
He had lived decades.
Lin Yan had been alive seventeen years.
Yet standing there, it was hard to tell who was older.
Nightfall
The system panel opened on its own.
[Threat Assessment Updated]
Liu Yuwen: Low-Risk, High-Attention]
Recommendation: Maintain moderate output; avoid rapid expansion]
Lin Yan lay back, breathing slowly.
Today, he had survived a probe.
Tomorrow, he would continue planting.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing risky.
Just slow growth.
He didn't need to outrun danger.
He needed to blend into the landscape—until he was strong enough to stand out safely.
One step at a time.
Just like nurturing fragile seedlings in dry soil.