"I've been supplying Manager Li with products. Besides preparing ready-made dishes for them, I've also developed a canned food business. These labels are what I plan to stick on the cans. They have our village's address written on them, so if anyone wants to buy from us, they can find us using this address," Song Nianchu explained to Mu Shi'an.
"That's a brilliant idea," Mu Shi'an said, his eyes lighting up.
Song Nianchu, however, felt a little embarrassed. The label wasn't her original creation.
"I saw it somewhere else and borrowed the idea."
"That's called learning. But if the idea is so good, why do you look so troubled?" Mu Shi'an asked again.
Song Nianchu let out a long sigh. "The idea is great, but it's really hard on my hands. Each label has to be hand-drawn, and this afternoon alone, I only managed to finish a dozen or so."
"Right now, the demand isn't too high, so I can handle it with some overtime. But if demand increases later, even eight hands wouldn’t be enough to keep up."
"Maybe I should stop putting labels on every jar and just randomly stick them on a few."
Although this would reduce the promotional effect, she didn’t want to ruin her hands just for these stickers.
"Can I take a look?" Mu Shi'an asked, noticing Song Nianchu's frustration.
"Sure, but my drawings are a bit rough," Song Nianchu said, handing over the labels she had made.
Mu Shi'an examined them carefully before speaking.
"I can carve a stamp for you. If you buy some ink, you can just press it onto the labels—it’ll be much faster."
"You know how to do that?" Song Nianchu was surprised.
Wasn’t this just printing?
"It’s quite simple," Mu Shi'an replied.
"Is there anything you find difficult?" Song Nianchu asked, feeling a bit defeated.
As someone from a later era, she couldn’t figure this out, yet Mu Shi'an made it seem effortless.
"Cooking," Mu Shi'an answered seriously.
Song Nianchu burst into laughter.
"Well, everyone has their strengths. Hands-on stuff like this really isn’t mine," she said, making peace with herself. Then she added, "Can you make a stamp that prints in color?"
"Color?"
"Yes. I want different colors—like red for the text and yellow for the border patterns," Song Nianchu pointed to her label.
In this era of scarcity, she had been using a black fountain pen for everything.
"That’s possible. We’d just need multiple stamps to achieve the effect, but you’ll also need to buy ink in different colors," Mu Shi'an said.
"Don’t worry about the ink. Just carve the stamps according to what I’ve described," Song Nianchu insisted.
"Alright. Tell me the details."
"Mm!" Song Nianchu leaned in and carefully explained her requirements.
After finishing, she suddenly realized her request was based on modern standards and was about to correct herself when Mu Shi'an spoke first.
"Got it. I’ll start carving after dinner."
"You can really do it?" Song Nianchu was stunned.
"It shouldn’t be a problem."
Song Nianchu was overjoyed. With Mu Shi'an’s personality, if he said it wasn’t a problem, it was practically guaranteed.
"Hurry, hurry! Let’s eat quickly so we can get to work." She immediately picked out a piece of fish belly for him—the tenderest, least bony part, her favorite.
"Alright," Mu Shi'an replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
After dinner, Song Nianchu didn’t let Mu Shi'an wash the dishes, urging him to start carving the stamps instead—she really didn’t want to hand-draw any more labels.
Seeing her eagerness, Mu Shi'an didn’t argue. He took one of the labels and left the kitchen.
By the time Song Nianchu finished cleaning up and stepped outside, Mu Shi'an was sitting on the steps, meticulously carving a piece of wood, his expression focused.
Song Nianchu instinctively softened her footsteps and peeked over. The wooden block was covered in uneven grooves, and she couldn’t make out anything recognizable.
"This will take a while. You should go rest first," a deep voice suddenly murmured near her ear.
Mu Shi'an, who had been bent over his work, had lifted his head without her noticing. In an instant, the distance between them narrowed to almost nothing.
Song Nianchu could clearly see his thick lashes, and her gaze involuntarily trailed down the bridge of his nose to his lips.
They looked so soft…
Mu Shi'an had only sensed her presence earlier, not realizing how close she was.
Now, with her striking features just inches away, his grip on the wooden block tightened. When her eyes lingered on his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.
He instinctively wanted to pull back, but at that moment, Song Nianchu suddenly leaned in.
The soft press of her lips against his sent a jolt through him.
Mu Shi'an froze. The woodblock and carving knife clattered to the ground.
The faint scent of soap filled his senses, sending a wave of heat through his body. He instinctively wanted more, but the warmth of her lips vanished as quickly as it had come.
Dazed, Mu Shi'an watched as Song Nianchu hastily retreated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
"Ahem… Take your time. I’ll… go to my room," she stammered before turning and fleeing inside.
Mu Shi'an remained on the steps, still processing what had just happened.
"……"
Back in her room, Song Nianchu threw herself onto the bed.
Oh my god, oh my god!
What had possessed her to just kiss him like that?!
Would Mu Shi'an think she was some kind of shameless woman?
But the way he’d been looking at her—how could she resist?
Besides, they were married. What was wrong with a little kiss?
It wasn’t like she couldn’t handle him if things escalated. She was strong, after all.
And hadn’t he seemed like he wanted to kiss her back?
Rolling onto her back, Song Nianchu touched her lips, where the lingering warmth of his still lingered.
It had been just a brief touch—she hadn’t even gotten a proper taste. But his lips were undeniably soft, with a faint, pleasant scent.
She yanked the blanket over her head.
After two lifetimes, she’d finally had her first kiss.
"……"
After staying in her room for a while, once she was sure the coast was clear, Song Nianchu grabbed fresh clothes and tiptoed out to bathe.
Mu Shi'an was still in the same spot, carving away. She didn’t make a sound, slipping past him unnoticed.
What she didn’t realize was that the moment she disappeared into the washroom with a bucket of hot water, Mu Shi'an slowly lifted his head.
His deep, well-like eyes shimmered with quiet amusement.
