The group of men who had just witnessed the scene didn’t dare linger any longer. They immediately released their grip and scrambled over to Yang Dafu’s side, stumbling over themselves in their haste.
"You just wait!" Yang Dafu spat through gritted teeth, barely enduring the pain as he hurled threats.
But his lackeys didn’t even dare glance at Song Nianchu. They hastily supported Yang Dafu and scurried away in a panic.
Once they were gone, the men and women who had been pinned to the ground earlier all clambered to their feet, gathering around the young girl in the center, murmuring soft words of comfort.
Song Nianchu shook her head. With such a timid family, no wonder they’d been pushed around so easily.
"Miss, thank you for saving my daughter just now." After composing herself, a beautiful woman in her forties, her eyes red-rimmed, stepped forward to express her gratitude to Song Nianchu.
Though dressed in coarse clothing, the woman carried an air of refinement that marked her as someone of distinction.
"No need for thanks. We’ll be family soon anyway," Song Nianchu replied dismissively, waving a hand.
"Ah?" The woman blinked in confusion.
But Song Nianchu had already turned her attention to Mu Shi'an. "Let’s go."
A flicker of puzzlement passed through Mu Shi'an’s dark eyes, as if he, too, didn’t quite grasp her meaning.
Seeing the situation, Wu Zhenggui quickly stepped in.
"This is Song Nianchu, the most striking beauty in our village—and the strongest. She catches the most fish every time she goes out to sea. Stick with her, and you’ll never go hungry."
"Who… is sticking with her?" the woman murmured hesitantly.
"Who else? Your eldest son here! He’s single, and so is our A-Chu. One’s handsome, the other’s stunning—what better match could there be?" Wu Zhenggui grinned like a seasoned matchmaker.
"This… isn’t it a bit too sudden? They’ve only just met today." The woman glanced at Song Nianchu again. She was indeed beautiful, not at all like a country bumpkin.
But the way she had handled Yang Dafu was downright terrifying. If her son married her, what kind of life would he lead?
Hearing this, Song Nianchu shot Wu Zhenggui a look.
She knew this old man had tricked her again!
"What’s the matter with your family? Didn’t you say you’d pay any price to get rid of Yang Dafu? I found someone to settle it for you, and now you’re backing out?" Wu Zhenggui’s smile vanished, his face turning stern.
"No, it’s not that…" The woman waved her hands frantically, but she couldn’t refute his words—she had indeed said that.
Clutching her daughter tighter, she looked helplessly at her son.
What kind of misfortune had befallen their family? Escaping the wolf’s den only to fall into the tiger’s jaws.
Song Nianchu could tell the family was reluctant to marry off their son and was about to tell Wu Zhenggui to forget it.
But someone spoke first.
"Fine."
The moment Mu Shi'an spoke, all eyes turned to him.
"No! An'er, your father is still ill. If he wakes up and finds out you… he won’t be able to bear it!" The woman’s tears spilled over.
"Brother, don’t do it! I’ll marry him—I’ll marry that man!" The young girl from earlier sobbed pitifully.
The rest of the family’s eyes reddened as well.
But Song Nianchu ignored them, her gaze fixed on Mu Shi'an.
"You’re really willing to come with me?"
"Yes." Mu Shi'an nodded.
"Do you understand what that means? You’d be marrying into my family. Any children we have will take my surname." Song Nianchu laid it out plainly.
Mu Shi'an’s pupils contracted slightly, but his expression remained composed.
"That’s acceptable." His reply was calm and straightforward. "But since it’s a matrilocal marriage, shouldn’t you also provide a bride price?"
"How much do you want?" Song Nianchu arched a brow.
This man was something else—discussing such matters without so much as a change in expression.
"200 yuan."
"You’ve got nerve." Song Nianchu chuckled.
At a time when the average worker earned barely 20 yuan a month, he was asking for nearly two years’ wages.
Mu Shi'an didn’t argue. Instead, he walked to a nearby water vat, scooped up a ladle of water, and washed his face meticulously. After checking his reflection to ensure no trace of dirt remained, he turned back to Song Nianchu.
Song Nianchu’s eyes widened instantly. How could she describe a face like that?
Well… she suddenly thought 200 yuan was far too little!
"Deal. Pack your things—I’ll come back for you later." After steadying herself, Song Nianchu turned and strode off.
That old village chief had really outdone himself this time. Not only did her prospective husband have a voice like melted honey, but he was also ridiculously good-looking.
Imagine him calling her name in that deep, velvety tone while under the covers…
Mmm…
The mental image was almost too much.
Mu Shi'an watched Song Nianchu’s retreating figure, a faint sneer tugging at his lips.
When had he sunk so low as to trade on his looks for survival?
"An'er, how could you agree to this? You’re the eldest son of the Mu family! The future of our lineage rests on you!" The woman finally snapped out of her daze, her eyes brimming with tears.
"To restore the Mu family, we must first survive." Mu Shi'an pushed aside his thoughts and spoke evenly.
"But not at your expense! If you marry into that woman’s household, even if we return to Jing City one day, you’ll carry that stain for the rest of your life!" The woman couldn’t bear to watch her son throw his future away.
He had always been a prodigy, admired by all. Had their family not met with disaster, he would have soared to unimaginable heights.
"Yang Dafu fears her. This is the best way to ensure he never harasses Jingmei again. Besides, Father still needs money for treatment." Mu Shi'an was the only one thinking clearly.
The Mu family’s glory was gone. All he wanted now was to keep his family alive.
Only the living could hope.
At the mention of Mu's Father, the woman fell silent, tears streaming down her face.
"Enough. Everyone, get ready." Mu Shi'an surveyed the disheveled group, then turned to gather his belongings.
Meanwhile, Song Nianchu had already returned home.
A black-and-white photograph sat atop the ancestral shrine in the main hall—a middle-aged man with a hearty grin. He was her late father.
A year ago, during a fishing trip, a storm had struck. To save her, he’d been swept into the raging sea, his body never recovered.
Yet the original Song Nianchu hadn’t survived either, leaving her soul to take over this borrowed body.
"I’m getting married, so stop haunting my dreams at night." Song Nianchu addressed the portrait bluntly.
For a full year, she hadn’t slept peacefully.
Maybe matrimony would finally bring her some peace.
