"I'm not entirely sure about this either. I'll go back and ask Mu Shi'an later. As for the accounting, don’t worry—I’ll check the books every month. If he dares to cook the books, I’ll definitely catch it," Song Nianchu said.
"That sounds perfect. Let’s just go with him, then," Wu Zhenggui replied eagerly.
After all, practically everyone in their village was illiterate.
"Let me confirm with Mu Shi'an first," Song Nianchu didn’t agree immediately.
"Alright, let me know once you’ve figured it out," Wu Zhenggui nodded.
"Mm," Song Nianchu acknowledged, then added, "Oh, there’s one more thing."
"What is it?" Wu Zhenggui asked.
"Manager Li has increased the order volume again. The five people in the kitchen are struggling to keep up, so I’d like to hire two more," Song Nianchu explained.
"That’s great news! We’ll hold a meeting tomorrow and draw lots again," Wu Zhenggui beamed.
He’d be thrilled if everyone in the village could land full-workday jobs—no one would have to go hungry or suffer from the cold anymore.
"Fine, you handle that," Song Nianchu nodded, then continued, "Since we’re holding a meeting anyway, let’s also select the first batch of families to use the net-weaving machines."
"They’re ready to use already? How many have you made so far?" Wu Zhenggui asked quickly.
"Five so far. Let’s allocate them by household," Song Nianchu suggested after a moment’s thought.
"Excellent, excellent! I’ll draw the names tomorrow," Wu Zhenggui was so excited he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
Their village not only had Song Nianchu’s private kitchen business but now also net-weaving machines.
It felt like all the good fortune had suddenly landed on them—as if the heavens had taken pity and blessed them with Song Nianchu and Mu Shi'an.
"That’s all I wanted to discuss. I’ll head back now, Uncle Zhenggui," Song Nianchu said softly.
"Alright," Wu Zhenggui nodded, then glanced at the stack of bills in his hand and held them out. "Ah-Chu, it’s safer if you keep this money. If it stays with me, I won’t sleep a wink tonight."
In all his years, he’d never had so much cash at home.
"Fine, I’ll hold onto it for now," Song Nianchu chuckled.
Wu Zhenggui immediately shoved the money toward her as if it were a hot potato.
Tucking the bills back into her pocket, Song Nianchu bid him farewell and headed home.
"..."
When she pushed the door open, Mu Shi'an wasn’t in the courtyard, but wisps of smoke curled from the kitchen chimney.
Song Nianchu went straight to the kitchen, where Mu Shi'an sat by the stove, feeding the fire. He looked up at the sound of her arrival.
"You’re back."
"Mm," Song Nianchu nodded.
"Two people dropped off ingredients earlier. They said you had business with the village chief, so I started cooking in case you returned late," Mu Shi'an explained.
"Those two work in the kitchen," Song Nianchu clarified.
"Mm," Mu Shi'an acknowledged.
Song Nianchu glanced at him but didn’t rush to start cooking. Instead, she sat down beside him.
"What’s wrong?" Mu Shi'an looked up.
"What do you think… of your father’s character?" Song Nianchu asked thoughtfully.
"Huh?" Mu Shi'an was momentarily caught off guard.
"I mean, how would you describe your father as a person?" she repeated.
"My father?" Mu Shi'an frowned slightly, studying her face, wondering if she was still worried about his father’s earlier threat to make them divorce.
"My father is quite traditional, very particular about legacy, but there’s nothing questionable about his integrity. He’s been in business for years with a solid reputation, and he donates to charity every year. Once you get to know him, you’ll see he’s strict on the surface but genuinely kind."
"And your mother and sister?" Song Nianchu pressed.
"My mother? She’s gentle but indecisive. At home, she usually follows my father’s lead, and if he’s not around, she listens to my sister. I wouldn’t call her a bad person—just someone without a strong sense of self, like a reed swaying in the wind. As for my sister, she’s been spoiled rotten. Her personality’s a bit warped, but she’s older now and unlikely to heed my advice. Unless something major happens, she won’t change." Mu Shi'an analyzed earnestly.
Song Nianchu nodded along—his assessment was fair.
Which meant his judgment of his father was likely reliable too.
"Ah-Chu, are you still worried I’ll leave?" Mu Shi'an wanted to say that once he made a decision, he’d never go back on it.
But Song Nianchu shook her head. "No."
"No? Then why ask about them?" Mu Shi'an’s brow furrowed.
"Well, my private kitchen business is stabilizing, and we’ve made some profit these past two weeks. Once your net-weaving machines are in use, the financial transactions will grow. I thought it’d be good to hire a trustworthy accountant to manage the village’s books," Song Nianchu explained.
Mu Shi'an: "..."
So she wasn’t concerned at all about whether his family approved or if he’d changed his mind?
"What’s wrong? You don’t agree?" Song Nianchu asked hesitantly when he kept staring at her.
"No. You’re not asking me to be the accountant, so why would I object?" Mu Shi'an averted his gaze and resumed tending the fire.
Huh?
Song Nianchu sensed something off about his mood, but what?
This should be good news for his family—an accountant’s job was light work with full workday credits. Given his father’s health, it’d be ideal.
"Mu Shi'an, could you ask your father if he’d be willing? The village chief will credit him with full workdays," Song Nianchu couldn’t quite read him, but business came first.
"Mm," Mu Shi'an grunted.
Now Song Nianchu was certain his mood had shifted.
"What’s wrong? Did I say something earlier that upset you?" she asked.
Mu Shi'an paused, the firewood in his hand stilling. Had she?
Not really. It was just that she didn’t seem to care much about his affairs.
"No. I’ll ask him for you after dinner," Mu Shi'an composed himself.
"Good. I’ll start cooking now," satisfied, Song Nianchu stood up.
As she chopped vegetables, she hummed a cheerful, nameless tune.
Mu Shi'an’s gaze lingered on her. In his over twenty years of life, every step had felt preordained.
He’d followed the script dutifully, never questioning it—until Song Nianchu. Being with her made him realize how dull his life had been.
She burned like a flame, casting warmth and light into his once-cold world.
Yet fire can burn if one isn't careful—still, he longed to draw even closer...
