When Mu Shi'an finished his bath, Mu Haoxuan and the others had almost boiled enough water. The weather was still quite hot, so the bathwater didn’t need to be too warm.
Mu Shi'an carried the buckets in for them, filled them with water, and then brought them to the bathing area.
"Go straight back to your rooms and rest after your bath," Mu Shi'an instructed.
"Okay," the two little ones nodded obediently.
After finishing his reminders, Mu Shi'an finally returned to his room.
As soon as he entered, he saw Song Nianchu leaning against the headboard of the bed, wearing only a thin undergarment, her usually braided hair now loose and cascading down.
The kerosene lamp cast a faint yellow glow, enveloping her in a soft halo of light.
She looked like a painting from the medieval era—beautiful and alluring.
Suppressing his emotions, Mu Shi'an closed the door and even locked it before slowly walking toward Song Nianchu.
Having just indulged in each other, the two of them had no restraint or boundaries left.
Mu Shi'an even pulled out the "manual" Song Nianchu had hidden under the pillow, wanting to try every technique listed inside.
At first, Song Nianchu was exhilarated, but soon she couldn’t help but beg for mercy.
Yet, even the gentlest of men seemed to lose all comprehension in bed.
When she asked him to stop, he went faster; when she pleaded for gentleness, he only grew rougher.
Pain mingled with overwhelming pleasure, pulling her deeper into an inescapable ecstasy.
By the end, Song Nianchu didn’t even have the strength to lift her arms. It was Mu Shi'an who went out to fetch hot water and carefully cleaned her up.
By the time Mu Shi'an climbed into bed, Song Nianchu was already fast asleep. He turned over, gently pulling her into his arms before closing his eyes contentedly.
The next day, unsurprisingly, Song Nianchu woke up late again. Fortunately, she no longer had to deliver ingredients, so Aunt Wu and the others wouldn’t be affected by her tardiness.
Song Nianchu took her time washing up and had breakfast at home.
It was like when you have only half an hour before being late—you’d rush desperately to clock in at the last second.
But once you’re already late, it doesn’t matter anymore. After all, being one minute late or an hour late makes no difference.
Mu Haoxuan and Mu Yongnian were at home printing labels, while Mu Shi'an and the other workers were busy assembling more net-weaving machines.
Not wanting to disturb them, Song Nianchu cleaned up the kitchen after breakfast and headed to the village office.
Aunt Wu and the others had already started working. After greeting them, Song Nianchu went inside to find Mu Deyi.
He was sitting at the worn-out desk, writing something.
Song Nianchu took out the money from yesterday’s fishing net sales and handed it to him.
"Accountant Mu, this is the income from the fishing nets sold yesterday."
"Alright." Mu Deyi took the money, counted it carefully, and confirmed the amount with Song Nianchu.
Only after double-checking did he record the income in the ledger.
Since he handled accounting, bookkeeping, and finances all by himself, he needed Song Nianchu to bear witness.
"Oh, and these nets were woven using the machines Mu Shi'an built. According to our agreement with the village, we’re entitled to 10% of the earnings as rental fees," Song Nianchu added.
"Rental fees?" Mu Deyi looked up.
"Yes, we signed a contract with the village." Song Nianchu pulled out the agreement and handed it to him.
Mu Deyi read it thoroughly and confirmed the terms.
"Signing contracts, demanding rental fees—this was all your idea, wasn’t it?" Mu Deyi studied Song Nianchu.
He knew his son well—Mu Shi'an only cared about his research and had no sense for business matters.
"Yes, but Shi'an didn’t object," Song Nianchu admitted frankly.
There was no hiding the rental fees. Not only was Mu Deyi in charge of finances, but the contract also explicitly stated the terms—word would eventually reach them.
"I understand, but I’ll need to verify this with the village chief before releasing the rental fees to you," Mu Deyi said cautiously.
Even when dealing with his own son and daughter-in-law, he remained meticulous.
He held this position, and he took his responsibilities seriously.
"Of course. The village chief should be at the square right now if you want to speak with him," Song Nianchu replied.
After all, her money wasn’t going anywhere.
"Mm." Mu Deyi nodded, pocketed the money, and picked up his ledger to leave.
"Oh, one more thing." Song Nianchu remembered the contract with the fishing gear factory and pulled it out of her pocket, handing it to Mu Deyi.
"This is the contract I signed with the factory yesterday. You should keep it here too, so it’s easier for you to manage the accounts later."
Mu Deyi glanced at it—fifty nets?
His head snapped up as he stared at Song Nianchu. Where did this petite girl get so much energy?
She had already built a thriving kitchen workshop, and now she was connecting with fishing gear factories too.
"Taking on so much—aren’t you exhausted?" Mu Deyi asked.
"Why would I be? I just run around outside. The villagers are the ones doing the actual work," Song Nianchu laughed.
"You can fool others with that, but don’t try it with me. Expanding so many ventures will eventually become overwhelming," Mu Deyi retorted.
As a businessman himself, he wasn’t fooled.
People often said bosses just lounged around counting money—how absurd was that?
Managing operations, growth, and strategy—all of it required the boss’s attention.
Every new venture brought new worries. In his earlier years, he had earned plenty, but the mental exhaustion left him sleepless most nights.
Now, as a simple accountant, he finally slept soundly.
He believed Song Nianchu could already ensure the villagers’ well-being with just the kitchen workshop.
There was no need to push herself to the brink—it would only wear her down.
"I don’t feel tired at all. In fact, I find it thrilling," Song Nianchu said, her eyes sparkling with unmistakable ambition.
Mu Deyi: "..."
He rarely saw such blatant ambition in a young woman.
Chinese culture valued restraint—even in business, he had always been steady and cautious.
But this girl was the opposite. She was bold, fearless, as if she knew unimaginable success awaited her.
"Fine. If you have no complaints, neither do I," Mu Deyi said, masking his thoughts before leaving the office.
Song Nianchu raised an eyebrow. Was he upset or not?
Probably not.
Didn’t everyone admire driven people?
She was ambitious—he should be happy about that.
Humming a tune, Song Nianchu returned to the courtyard.
But as she glanced around, she suddenly noticed someone was missing.
"Aunt Wu, where’s the educated youth Meng?" Song Nianchu asked.
