"If it breaks on its own, we’ll take responsibility for repairs. Of course, there’s no need to worry too much—I’m only referring to deliberate, malicious damage that can’t be fixed. Minor wear and tear or small issues won’t be held against anyone."
"We’re all from the same village. I’d never intentionally make things difficult for you. It’s just that these machines are very complicated to make, and I want everyone to take good care of them. That’s why I’ve set this rule," Song Nianchu explained.
"Oh, we understand now. We’ll follow the rules properly. Can we stamp our fingerprints now?" The villagers felt reassured after hearing her explanation.
"Of course." Song Nianchu smiled and nodded.
Since there was no ink pad at home, she dipped some paper into oil-based ink instead.
The five villagers eagerly pressed their fingerprints onto the contract.
Song Nianchu cheerfully took the signed papers and handed them to Wu Zhenggui.
Wu Zhenggui also signed his name without hesitation.
The contract was now officially sealed.
"Nianchu, can we take the net-weaving machines back now?" The five burly men stared at her eagerly.
"Go ahead." After confirming the contract was in order, Song Nianchu waved them off.
The men immediately rushed forward, each hoisting a machine onto their backs and hurrying away as if afraid she might change her mind.
Watching their almost bandit-like retreat, Song Nianchu couldn’t help but sigh in amusement.
"Nianchu..." Wu Zhenggui looked at her with emotion, but before he could say more, she cut him off.
"Uncle Zhenggui, if you’re about to thank me again, don’t bother. You’ve already said it so many times."
Wu Zhenggui paused, then chuckled.
"Alright, no more thanks from now on."
He’d just keep it in his heart.
"That’s more like it." Song Nianchu’s smile brightened.
"Well, now that the machines are all distributed, I should get back to work," Wu Zhenggui said gently.
"Go ahead." She nodded.
Once Wu Zhenggui left, Song Nianchu turned to Mu Shi'an beside her.
"How does it feel seeing everyone so excited about the machines you made?"
"Happy," Mu Shi'an replied softly.
"That’s it?" Song Nianchu raised an eyebrow.
Mu Shi'an looked puzzled. "What else should there be?"
"Pride! Didn’t you see the way they looked at you just now? Like you were some kind of savior! Doesn’t that make you feel… thrilled?" She gazed at him expectantly.
"...Maybe a little." Unable to disappoint the sparkle in her eyes, Mu Shi'an reluctantly agreed.
"You’re just humoring me." Song Nianchu’s smile faded.
Mu Shi'an faltered, unsure how to respond.
He truly didn’t understand the exhilaration she was describing.
"Never mind. Just focus on making more machines. You’ll figure it out eventually." Song Nianchu sighed inwardly. The Mu family had done an excellent job instilling morals and education in him, but in other ways, they’d left him… lacking.
Like a flawless machine, not quite a living, breathing person.
But there was time. She could teach him the joys of being human.
"Alright." Seeing her smile return, Mu Shi'an relaxed slightly.
"Sis! We’re done!" Just then, Mu Haoxuan came running out of the house, beaming at Song Nianchu.
"Already? That was fast!" She was surprised.
"Yeah! Come see!" Mu Haoxuan waved excitedly.
"Okay." She nodded, then glanced at Mu Shi'an. "I’ll go check on them."
"Mm." He acknowledged.
Inside, Song Nianchu found Mu Yongnian sitting properly on a stool while rows of freshly printed labels lay on the floor.
"You two did all this?" She was impressed.
"Yep! Third Brother and I worked together. It was super easy—we finished in no time!" Mu Haoxuan puffed his chest proudly.
"You’re amazing." Song Nianchu didn’t hold back her praise.
Mu Haoxuan practically wagged an invisible tail in delight.
"Sis, if you’ve got more paper, bring it out! We’ll print everything for you!" He was practically floating from the compliments.
Mu Yongnian gave his younger brother a resigned look. He was great—just a little too unrestrained.
Still, if Song Nianchu needed more labels printed, he’d gladly help.
His eldest brother had said they could stay here—but they’d need to pay rent.
He had to work hard to lighten the burden.
"Sis, we’re almost out of ink. If you want more labels printed, we’ll need to mix more," Mu Yongnian reminded her.
"Got it. I’ll prepare some." She checked the dish—the ink was indeed running low—and turned to mix a fresh batch.
As she worked, Mu Yongnian watched intently.
Red plus yellow made orange.
Yellow plus blue made green.
Blue plus red made purple.
He was fascinated.
When Song Nianchu finished mixing, she noticed the eager curiosity on his face.
"Want to try?" she offered.
"Can I?" Mu Yongnian was surprised.
"Of course." She nodded.
He hesitated, thinking the ink must be expensive. If he messed up, it’d be a waste.
"Don’t worry. If you learn to mix colors, you can take over this task for me—that’d be even more helpful," Song Nianchu said, reading his thoughts.
"Then I’ll try!" Eager to assist, he agreed at once.
"Red, yellow, and blue are the primary colors. You can use them to create any shade you need." She guided him step by step.
But soon, Song Nianchu was stunned by Mu Yongnian’s natural talent—he effortlessly recreated every color she’d mixed earlier.
The hues were perfectly matched.
Though these shades weren’t complex, achieving such precision on his first try was remarkable.
"Can you try mixing the color of my coat?" She pointed to her dark blue jacket—a shade she hadn’t taught him.
Mu Yongnian glanced up, then immediately began blending.
His hands moved without pause, as if every step was already mapped out in his mind.
