Song Nianchu returned to her room and pulled out a camphorwood chest from under the bed.
Opening it, she dug out a newspaper folded into a rectangle from the very bottom.
Layer by layer, she unfolded it to reveal a stack of banknotes inside.
This was the dowry her late father had prepared for her, hoping that once she came of age, she could marry a handsome live-in son-in-law and bear him a beautiful grandchild.
After that, he’d planned to retire from seafaring and enjoy his golden years doting on his grandkids. But fate had other plans—an accident struck just before she reached adulthood.
Song Nianchu counted the money—230 yuan in total.
If she took out 200 yuan for the dowry, only 30 would remain.
"Consider this fulfilling your last wish. I hope you won’t blame me," Song Nianchu murmured, tucking the 200 yuan into her pocket. She hesitated over the remaining 30, then stuffed it in as well.
Just as she was about to leave to fetch Mu Shi'an, Wu Zhenggui’s voice sounded at the door again.
"Ah-Chu."
Stepping out of her room, Song Nianchu saw Wu Zhenggui and his wife standing in the courtyard, beaming at her.
"Ah-Chu, the old man told us you’re getting married. I cut out some ‘double happiness’ characters for you. Even though your father’s gone, a wedding’s a big occasion—you ought to have some festive decorations," Aunt Wu said, her eyes warm with affection.
"Thank you," Song Nianchu replied, her expression softening.
"I’ll go put them up for you," Aunt Wu announced cheerfully.
"Alright," Song Nianchu nodded.
As Aunt Wu bustled off, Wu Zhenggui gave Song Nianchu a once-over.
"Off to fetch him?"
"Mm," she confirmed.
"Listen, those city folks they sent down here still carry some arrogance. If that fellow refuses you tonight, just force him. You’ve got the strength—he won’t stand a chance," Wu Zhenggui muttered under his breath.
Song Nianchu: "…"
"Uncle Zhenggui, this is a proper marriage, not a bandit’s forced abduction," she sighed.
"I’m just worried the boy might not cooperate! If all the decent young men within ten miles hadn’t been scared off by you, I wouldn’t have suggested taking in some ‘reformee,’" Wu Zhenggui grumbled, as if she were settling for less.
"Uncle Zhenggui, please stop talking," Song Nianchu said, fearing his words might jinx the wedding altogether.
"Fine, fine, I’ll shut up," he conceded. After glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping, he fished out a small booklet from his coat and handed it to her.
"What’s this?" She took it and started to flip through.
Wu Zhenggui immediately stopped her. "Not here—wait till tonight."
Something in his tone made her pause.
This booklet… surely it wasn’t what she thought it was?
"This is my prized possession. I wouldn’t have brought it out if I weren’t worried you’d bungle things tonight. Take care of it—don’t damage it. Return it after the wedding night," he said gravely.
Song Nianchu: "…"
"What a devoted uncle you are, giving an innocent maiden something like this," she said, suddenly feeling like her hands needed washing.
"Don’t be ridiculous. What ‘innocent maiden’ can punch a mad cow to death?" Wu Zhenggui retorted sternly.
Song Nianchu: "…"
Well, in the eyes of Qinghe Fishing Village, she’d probably long since forfeited any claim to womanhood.
"Alright, hurry up and go pick them up. When you return, it’ll be just in time for the wedding night." Wu Zhenggui glanced at the sky, which was already growing dim.
Song Nianchu tucked the booklet in her hand away and stepped out of the house.
By the time she returned to the Mu family’s home, the courtyard had been tidied up neatly.
This place had originally been an abandoned, dilapidated house in the village, with even the roof tiles broken and missing, and one of the walls in the eastern room collapsed.
In the past, whenever she passed by, the yard had been overgrown with weeds as tall as a person.
But the Mu family, who had only arrived a few days ago, had already cleaned up the courtyard thoroughly. It was clear they were a family with standards.
The moment Song Nianchu stepped into the yard, she was met with countless hostile or resentful stares.
They were all from Mu Shi'an’s family, and none of them seemed particularly welcoming.
Song Nianchu suddenly felt like some kind of tyrant who had come to seize what wasn’t hers.
"You’re here." Just then, Mu Shi'an walked out of the house. Seeing her, he spoke calmly, as if he were the most composed person in the entire place—as if he wasn’t the one about to marry into her family.
"This is the bride price for you." Without wasting time, Song Nianchu pulled out the 200 yuan from her pocket and handed it to him.
Mu Shi'an counted it, confirmed the amount was correct, and then passed the money to the elegant woman beside him.
"Mom, put this away safely. Use some of it to call a doctor for Dad, and keep the rest for household expenses," Mu Shi'an instructed.
"Shi'an..." The woman clutched the 200 yuan, her hands trembling.
This was her son’s "selling price."
How could she hold it steady?
Seeing her like this, Mu Shi'an didn’t say anything more. He picked up a small bag from the ground and walked over to Song Nianchu.
"Let’s go." Without waiting for her response, he strode toward the gate.
Feeling a little guilty, Song Nianchu rubbed her nose and turned to follow.
But Mu Jingmei suddenly ran after them, shouting at Song Nianchu’s retreating figure.
"You’d better treat my brother well! And I’ll work hard to earn enough money to buy him back!"
Hearing the shout, Song Nianchu instinctively turned around. The young girl’s eyes were red, but her gaze was unwavering.
For a moment, Song Nianchu felt like an absolute villain. She glanced at Mu Shi'an beside her and opened her mouth, about to suggest they call off the marriage—she didn’t want someone cursing her behind her back every day.
But before she could speak, Mu Shi'an grabbed her wrist and pulled her away firmly.
Only when the voices behind them had completely faded did Mu Shi'an finally release her hand.
"...Sorry." He seemed to realize belatedly what he’d done and apologized hoarsely.
"Look... if you’re unwilling, we can cancel the—" Though Mu Shi'an was undeniably handsome, she wasn’t the type to force someone into this.
"If I agreed, I won’t go back on my word." He cut her off before she could finish.
"You really won’t regret it?" Song Nianchu raised an eyebrow.
"Which way is your house?" Mu Shi'an answered with action, making his choice clear.
"Fine. You said it yourself. Don’t change your mind after a few days—I’ve got plenty of strength to spare." Song Nianchu’s eyes gleamed.
Mu Shi'an looked down at the petite girl standing before him, barely reaching his shoulders, as she spoke the firmest words in the softest voice. For some reason, he suddenly felt the urge to laugh.
Then he remembered how those same delicate hands had once crushed Yang Dafu's arm, and the laughter died in his throat.
It truly proved the saying—never judge a book by its cover.
"Then go easy on me in the future," Mu Shi'an murmured, his lips curving slightly.
