Song Nianchu frowned slightly upon hearing this.
"You're still in such a hurry to work despite being injured like this? Did you apply any medicine?"
"It's just a minor injury, no need for medicine," Mu Shi'an replied dismissively.
"But your hands are so beautiful—what if they scar?" Song Nianchu still remembered how striking Mu Shi'an looked when he held a brush, sketching on paper.
"I'm a grown man. A few scars don’t matter."
"They don’t matter to you, but they matter to me!" Song Nianchu said firmly.
Without waiting for his response, she pulled him into the house.
When Mu Shi'an tried to protest, Song Nianchu pushed him onto the bed and rummaged through the cabinet for a small jar of ointment.
"Give me your hand!" she ordered sternly.
Mu Shi'an hesitated. "If I apply medicine, I won’t be able to work properly."
"I said, give me your hand!" Song Nianchu fixed him with an intense stare.
Reluctantly, Mu Shi'an extended his hand.
Song Nianchu opened the jar and scooped out a bit of ointment.
This wasn’t specifically for treating such wounds, but in their fishing village, people often had to brave the cold waters in winter, leaving their hands cracked and sore. A dab of this ointment usually brought relief.
"I’m not sure if this will help," Song Nianchu murmured as she applied it.
Mu Shi'an watched her, brows furrowed in concentration as she tended to his injuries. Strangely, the wounds that hadn’t hurt much before now tingled under her touch, sending a strange numbness through him. He instinctively tried to pull his hand back.
"Don’t move!" Song Nianchu lightly smacked the back of his hand.
Mu Shi'an immediately froze.
She worked meticulously, covering every tiny cut. By the time she finished both hands, half an hour had passed.
"Alright, no work for you today," Song Nianchu declared after ensuring no spot was missed, then capped the ointment.
"Come on, the medicine’s working—my hands don’t even hurt anymore," Mu Shi'an argued, flexing his fingers as if to prove his point.
Song Nianchu didn’t reply, simply staring at him until he fell silent.
"Rest. I’ll go sort out the ingredients in the kitchen," she said, putting the ointment back in the cabinet before leaving.
Truthfully, it wasn’t just his injuries that made her insist he rest. He stayed up late and rose early, barely getting any sleep.
Such exhaustion would take a toll on his health.
She still hoped to have a beautiful child with him someday—she couldn’t let him wear himself out now.
If they couldn’t conceive, her late father might haunt her dreams again to scold her.
Before Mu Shi'an could say more, a loud commotion erupted outside, followed by frantic footsteps.
"Brother! Brother, come quick!" The voice was choked with tears.
"It’s Yongnian!" Mu Shi'an bolted for the door, Song Nianchu close behind.
In the courtyard, Mu Yongnian stood trembling, his eyes red and swollen from crying.
"What happened? What’s wrong?" Mu Shi'an rushed to him.
"Big brother… Dad… Dad’s dying… He just coughed up blood… He—" Mu Yongnian sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to speak.
Without another word, Mu Shi'an sprinted toward the gate.
"Yongnian, explain everything clearly to me," Song Nianchu said calmly, crouching to meet his gaze.
"I don’t know what happened… Haoxuan and Second Sister started arguing at home, and then they brought up Big Brother marrying into your family. Dad overheard and got so upset he coughed up blood," Mu Yongnian stammered between sniffles.
Song Nianchu’s frown deepened. That Mu Jingmei was nothing but trouble. Maybe they shouldn’t have saved her back then.
"Let’s go. I’ll come with you to check on him," she said, leading Mu Yongnian out and locking the gate carefully behind them.
When they arrived at the Mu household, the air was thick with wails.
Mu Haoxuan sat in the yard, crying so hard he seemed on the verge of passing out.
Mu Jingmei stood by the door, eyes red, tears clinging to her lashes—a picture of pitiful grievance.
Song Nianchu strode over and scooped Mu Haoxuan into her arms.
"Enough, stop crying," she said, wiping his tears.
"Sister!" Mu Haoxuan clung to her. "I didn’t mean to… Dad won’t… die, will he?" His tiny body shook with sobs.
"It’ll be alright. Let me check on him first. Stay out here and don’t cry anymore, or he’ll worry even more," Song Nianchu soothed.
At the mention of his father worrying, Mu Haoxuan bit his lip, forcing back his tears.
"Yongnian, watch your brother," Song Nianchu instructed once the boy had calmed.
"…Okay," Mu Yongnian rasped.
Song Nianchu headed inside, ignoring Mu Jingmei completely as she passed.
The room was dim and reeked of sickness.
Against the wall lay a gaunt middle-aged man—Mu's Father—his skeletal frame sprawled on a crude wooden bed, blood staining his lips. His breathing was shallow, his life hanging by a thread.
Mu's mother stood beside the bed, weeping uncontrollably.
Mu Shi'an examined his father, his hands trembling despite his composed expression.
"Your father needs to go to the hospital. Now," Song Nianchu said.
"But we can’t even leave the village!" Mu's mother wailed, fresh tears gushing.
"Stay here with him. I’ll fetch the village chief," Song Nianchu told Mu Shi'an before turning to leave.
"Shi'an, what are we going to do about your father?" Mu's mother cried, ignoring Song Nianchu’s departure. "If he dies, I won’t live either—I’ll follow him!"
"Mom, don’t say that! Don’t leave me alone!" Mu Jingmei rushed in, clutching her mother and wailing even louder.
The two seemed to be competing, their cries escalating.
Mu Shi'an’s head throbbed from the noise. He shot them a sharp glare.
"Dad is unconscious! Can’t you both shut up?!"
Mu's mother and Mu Jingmei froze, startled into silence.
But after a moment, Mu Jingmei recovered, glaring back indignantly.
"Big Brother, Dad collapsed because of you! And now you’re yelling at me?"
