Following her heart...
Song Nianchu silently repeated these words in her mind. After a moment, the emotions in her eyes finally receded, and she felt noticeably lighter.
"You're right. If the heart has no regrets, then the decision can't be wrong. Let's go home." A bright smile spread across Song Nianchu's face.
"...Alright." Though Mu Shi'an didn't understand what had been troubling Song Nianchu, seeing the radiant joy on her face, the corners of his lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
He always felt there were secrets hidden within Song Nianchu—like how she had just performed CPR and rescue breathing with such precision.
Yet none of the other villagers in Qinghe Fishing Village knew about this.
But her urgency and focus while saving someone were unmistakable. No one with ill intentions could have had such an expression in their eyes.
She... was a good person.
Without paying Mu Shi'an any further mind, Song Nianchu headed straight for the kitchen as soon as they returned home. The rhythmic sounds of chopping and cutting soon echoed from inside, as if she were bustling with activity.
Mu Shi'an didn’t quite understand how someone who had been so downcast could suddenly bounce back, but he was glad she had found clarity.
Outside, the sound of a whistle blew again, though this one was much calmer than before.
It was the signal for the start of the workday. Mu Shi'an glanced toward the kitchen—Song Nianchu was still busy—so he didn’t call for her and left for work alone.
The main livelihood of the fishing village was going out to sea, but even on days when they didn’t fish, the villagers still had to work, usually weaving nets or repairing fishing gear.
These items could be sold for money or kept for personal use.
By the time Mu Shi'an reached the village square, most of the villagers had already gathered.
His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted his mother and younger sister in a corner. He immediately walked over.
"Shi'an." Mu's mother’s eyes reddened the moment she saw him.
Mu Jingmei, however, said nothing, stubbornly wrestling with the shuttle in her hands.
"Mom, how’s Dad doing?" Mu Shi'an sighed at Mu Jingmei’s behavior but didn’t press her, instead turning his attention to his mother.
"I called for the doctor first thing this morning. He prescribed some medicine, and I already gave your father a dose. He seems a little better now." Mu's mother wiped the corners of her eyes.
"That’s good." Mu Shi'an let out a relieved breath.
"And... how are you?" Mu's mother’s voice was hoarse as she asked.
Earlier, when Mu Jingmei had returned home, she had been silent, her eyes red. Mu's mother had wondered if Mu Shi'an had suffered some mistreatment at Song Nianchu’s hands.
She was so strong, and her son was so handsome—now that they were married, who knew what kind of torment awaited him?
"I’m fine." Mu Shi'an couldn’t stand watching Mu Jingmei tangle the fishing line even further, so he took the shuttle from her hands.
"What are you doing? Now that you have a wife, you’ve forgotten about your sister? Go help her instead—I don’t need you meddling!" Mu Jingmei huffed, trying to snatch the shuttle back.
"Do you think I was wrong to scold you this morning?" Mu Shi'an easily held it out of her reach.
Mu Jingmei didn’t answer, but her aggrieved expression said everything.
"Barging into someone’s home without permission is already rude, let alone when that person saved your life," Mu Shi'an said calmly.
"She only saved me to blackmail you!" Mu Jingmei burst out.
If Song Nianchu hadn’t ensnared her brother, Mu Jingmei would have willingly served her like a slave.
But her brother was so outstanding—back in Jing City, so many well-bred young ladies from scholarly families had pursued him.
He should have married a refined, educated woman like himself. How could he be forced to become the live-in son-in-law of some orphaned village girl? That woman probably couldn’t even write her own name—how was she worthy of him?
"She didn’t blackmail me. I agreed willingly," Mu Shi'an said with another sigh.
"Why would you do that?" Mu Jingmei refused to believe it.
"Why wouldn’t I? Jingmei, our family isn’t what it used to be. You need to let go of those spoiled young miss habits of yours. Without Song Nianchu, you’d already be with that Yang Dafu, and Dad wouldn’t have money for medicine. So from now on, you will treat your sister-in-law with respect. She’s our family’s savior." Mu Shi'an’s words weren’t harsh, but each one struck Mu Jingmei’s heart like a hammer.
Deep down, she knew—Song Nianchu had saved them. But she just couldn’t accept it.
She couldn’t bear it for her brother’s sake. He was so good, so exceptional...
"Enough. Focus on your work, and don’t bring this up again." Mu Shi'an knew Mu Jingmei was upset on his behalf.
But he didn’t feel wronged. Given their family’s current status, Song Nianchu was the one who had every right to resent him.
Mu Shi'an picked up the shuttle and began weaving the net with practiced motions. They had been learning for days now and had improved, but they were still far slower than the villagers who had done this since childhood.
By midday, their family had only finished a third of what the others had.
At this rate, their daily work points would be pitifully low, and the rations they’d receive wouldn’t last through winter.
Mu Shi'an stood, stretching his stiff neck. The problem lay in the outdated tools—if he could modify them, they might work faster.
"Are you coming home with us, or...?" Mu Shi'an was still lost in thought when Mu Jingmei’s reluctant voice pulled him back.
"You go ahead."
"Hmph! Fine, we’ll go without you!" Mu Jingmei stormed off in a huff.
"Don’t hold it against her. She’s just worried about you," Mu's mother said softly.
"I know." Mu Shi'an nodded, his gaze lingering on his mother’s red, swollen hands.
She had once been a noblewoman who never lifted a finger for housework. Yet in such a short time here in the fishing village, she had aged so much.
"Mom, take care of yourself. Don’t worry about me."
"Mm." Mu's mother nodded firmly before turning away, her steps heavy with weariness.
Mu Shi'an watched until they disappeared from sight before heading back.
The moment he pushed open the courtyard gate, a rich, savory aroma greeted him—coming from the kitchen.
Curious, he walked over.
Inside, Song Nianchu was carefully ladling something into a small jar—a dish she had prepared, its mouthwatering scent filling the air.
"What are you making?" Mu Shi'an approached.
"You’re back! Perfect timing—try this new dish I came up with." The moment she saw him, Song Nianchu set the jar aside and picked up a piece of glistening red fish with her chopsticks, holding it out to his lips.
The gesture was intimate, but her gaze was so eager that Mu Shi'an instinctively opened his mouth.
The moment the fish touched his tongue, his face flushed bright red.
