Zhou Yueshen didn’t pull his hand back. He lifted his gaze to meet Yu Dong’s stunned expression across from him, his voice deep and cold: "Do you still have business here?"
It took Yu Dong a long moment to snap his jaw shut, swallowing the meat in his mouth. This time, he wisely shook his head and quickly excused himself.
He had a feeling—this wife of the boss would be different from the previous ones...
Zhou Yueshen sat down in the same position, but the quiet didn’t last long before it was broken by a knock at the door.
Si Nian jolted awake, straightening up abruptly. When she looked up, she saw the man sitting beside her. She was still a little dazed—had they been sitting this close when they first sat down?
Then she noticed something in her hand and froze. Looking down, she realized she had been holding Zhou Yueshen’s fingers! She immediately recoiled as if burned, tucking her hands behind her back. Her face flushed slightly as she met his gaze. "Sorry, I fell asleep," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
She must have caught a slight chill.
Zhou Yueshen set down the pen in his hand and picked up the lunchbox—the same hand Si Nian had just been holding. He stood, straightening the desk, his voice low. "Go home and rest. I’ll wash the lunchbox and bring it back tonight."
Si Nian watched his tall figure walk out of the office, exchanging a few words with someone outside.
Her head did feel heavy, probably from the chill. But she couldn’t figure out why she had been holding Zhou Yueshen’s hand in her sleep.
She sat quietly for a few seconds, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall what had happened.
If he had been the one holding her hand, she could have understood. But why had she been the one gripping his fingers?
Si Nian never knew she had such a strange habit.
Had Zhou Yueshen stayed so close, waiting for her to wake up before letting go?
The thought made her cheeks warm again.
On her way back, Si Nian noticed a villager’s field full of radish greens.
The radish greens were lush and vibrant, their bright green tops peeking out of the soil. When she was little, her family had also grown radishes—the ones with half their green bodies exposed were especially sweet and juicy.
Seeing someone working in the field, she quickly called out, "Auntie, are these radish greens for sale?"
The woman turned, startled to see Si Nian pointing at her radishes. "Aren’t you Old Zhou’s wife? You want radishes?"
These things were common in the village—easy to grow, but most families didn’t eat them. They were usually fed to the pigs.
They weren’t worth much.
Si Nian nodded. "Yes, your radishes look big and fresh. I’d like to buy some to make dried radish strips."
The auntie beamed at the compliment. "No need for money! Take as many as you want, no need to be polite with me."
Since the Zhou family ran the livestock farm and sold pork at lower prices, the villagers hadn’t struggled as much to afford meat in recent years. Everyone remembered that kindness.
A few radishes were nothing.
Besides, building a good relationship with the Zhou family had its benefits.
Truthfully, the Zhou family wasn’t easy to get close to. It wasn’t that Zhou Yueshen was unfriendly—he was just too busy, always at the farm and rarely seen. The kids were too young and quiet, so most villagers didn’t interact much with them.
But when villagers bought meat from the farm, the Zhou family gave them a local discount.
Still, Zhou Yueshen’s new wife seemed nice and approachable.
Right now, the whole village was talking about her, but so far, no one had a bad word to say.
"I can’t take them for free! If I do, how can I charge you when you come to buy meat from us later?"
Si Nian smiled. She wasn’t about to take advantage of small favors. The auntie was being kind because of her connection to Zhou Yueshen, but she couldn’t just accept it.
Besides, it was just a small amount—she could afford it. Taking it for free would mean owing a favor.
"How about this, Auntie—I’ll take ten pounds at ten cents per pound. That’s one yuan."
She pulled out the money and handed it over.
The auntie pretended to refuse for a moment, but her grin gave her away.
Who knew her worthless radishes could actually make money? She immediately abandoned her work and happily helped Si Nian pull them up (in her mind, Si Nian couldn’t help but hum a certain tune—Pull the radish, pull the radish, heave-ho, heave-ho, it won’t budge!).
The radishes were plump and juicy, almost like fruit.
But when something was too common, people stopped valuing it. To Si Nian, though, they were a treasure.
Ten pounds wasn’t enough—she promised to come back for more. The auntie cheerfully saw her off, inviting her to return anytime.
Back home, Si Nian set up an old plastic basin under the faucet and began washing the radishes.
Then she went inside, dug out the clear plastic bucket Zhou Yueshen’s family used for lard, cleaned it thoroughly, and left it in the sun to sterilize.
Yaoyao toddled over in her little sandals (slap-slap!), eager to help—though she mostly just played with the water.
Si Nian let her be.
After washing the radishes, she took out a knife and cutting board, slicing them into strips. Five pounds would become spicy pickled radish, and the other five would be dried into radish strips.
She salted the sliced radish and let it sit for half an hour.
Si Nian loved spice, so she had bought plenty of chili peppers. She chopped a few now, then prepared the pickling liquid—water, white vinegar, a bag of pickled peppers, and salt, boiled and cooled.
By then, the radish strips were ready. She drained the excess water, added the chilies, then poured in the pickling liquid and mixed well.
A simple, tangy, spicy, and crunchy radish dish was done.
Of course, it would taste best after four or five hours of marinating. Si Nian transferred the radish into the prepared plastic bucket—the vibrant red and white strips looked mouthwatering already.
She could practically taste it.
The radish strips for drying would take much longer, so she set them aside for now.
After all that work, she was sweating again.
She grabbed fresh clothes and took a shower. Seeing the sun still high, she carried Yaoyao out to the yard to bask in the warmth while her hair dried naturally.
But just then, the sound of a car horn blared outside.
Si Nian frowned and looked over.
There, parked right outside the Zhou residence, was that eyesore—Li Mingjun.
He stepped out of the car, running a hand through his wind-tousled hair like some dashing hero, and strode toward Si Nian with a prime cut of pork in hand.
When his eyes landed on the radiant young woman in the courtyard—dressed in a flowing dress, her hair cascading over her shoulders—Li Mingjun’s gaze turned downright shameless.
Si Nian stepped out of the shower, her usual preference at home being thin, soft dresses that clung to her figure—her enviable curves practically daring onlookers to look away. Her slightly damp, jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders in natural, tousled waves, the sunlight catching the crown of her head and casting a radiant halo around her.
