Mu Yongnian only needed a few attempts to perfectly match the color of Song Nianchu's clothing.
Song Nianchu compared the shades—they were nearly identical.
"What about the color of Haoxuan's clothes?" Song Nianchu quickly pointed at Mu Haoxuan.
With just a glance, Mu Yongnian began mixing again, and moments later, he replicated the exact shade of Mu Haoxuan's outfit.
"Yongnian, you're a genius!" Song Nianchu exclaimed in amazement.
"Huh?" Mu Yongnian was momentarily caught off guard.
"Have you ever studied color theory before?" she asked.
Mu Yongnian shook his head.
"So you've never worked with colors before?"
"Nope."
"Then you really are a natural! Do you like painting?" Song Nianchu had always cherished people with innate talent.
In her past life, whenever she encountered someone gifted, she did her best to support them within her means.
She couldn’t bear to see their potential dulled by time or crushed by survival.
"Painting? I’ve never tried it before." Mu Yongnian’s eyes held a trace of confusion.
"That’s fine! We can start now. With your keen sense of color, I’m sure you’ll become an outstanding painter someday!"
"I’ll be your exclusive agent, open a gallery for you, and take your art worldwide!" Song Nianchu could already picture mountains of cash waving at her.
She couldn’t help but grin.
"Sister-in-law, let’s not." Just as Song Nianchu was lost in her rosy vision, Mu Yongnian’s voice snapped her back to reality.
"Not? What do you mean?" She blinked, puzzled.
"I’m not really interested in painting," he admitted.
"Not interested? But you seemed so engaged just now!" Her surprise was evident.
"I just thought the colors were fascinating." Mu Yongnian glanced at the palette before him, a fleeting sadness in his eyes before he masked it with a smile. "Let’s focus on stamping the labels first, okay?"
Song Nianchu studied him intently, making him shift uncomfortably under her gaze. Eventually, he looked away.
"Alright, you two keep stamping. I’ll fetch more paper." She didn’t press further.
Once she left, Mu Yongnian exhaled in relief.
Her scrutiny had nearly unraveled him.
"Third Brother, do you really not like painting?" Mu Haoxuan piped up, tilting his head.
Mu Yongnian didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the ink.
He’d never painted before, but the colors intrigued him.
Just three primary shades could blend into endless possibilities—a mesmerizing, unpredictable magic.
For a moment, curiosity flared in him, but he quickly smothered it.
He wasn’t the Third Young Master of the Mu family anymore. Their wealth was gone.
Paints, brushes, canvases—all luxuries. His family could barely afford meals, let alone art supplies.
Besides, he’d likely spend his whole life in this fishing village. What use was painting? It wouldn’t fill their stomachs.
"Third Brother, you do like it. Why tell Sister you don’t?" Mu Haoxuan pressed, noticing his lingering stare at the ink.
"Haoxuan, in our situation, ‘liking’ something is pointless. We need to work, earn labor credits, and make sure we don’t starve." Mu Yongnian met his younger brother’s eyes.
Mu Haoxuan only half-understood, his face scrunched in confusion.
Mu Yongnian forced a smile. "It’s okay if you don’t get it. I’ll take care of you."
"Mm! I’ll take care of you too!" That part, Mu Haoxuan grasped.
Unbeknownst to them, Song Nianchu had overheard everything from behind the door. Her heart ached for Mu Yongnian.
At just eight years old—an age when children in better times would throw tantrums over toys—he already bore the weight of reality, shielding his little brother.
With a quiet sigh, she waited until their conversation ended before entering with paper.
"Once you finish stamping these today, that should be enough."
"Okay." Mu Yongnian carefully accepted the sheets.
"Are these dry yet?" She pretended not to notice his earlier act, gesturing to the labels laid out nearby.
"The first batch should be ready. I’ll get them." He set the paper aside and gathered the dried tags, Mu Haoxuan helping eagerly.
"That’s plenty for now," Song Nianchu said, seeing the stack in their hands.
"Alright." Mu Yongnian handed them over. "If you need more, just ask."
"Will do." She nodded. "Don’t rush, take your time." She didn’t want them overworking.
"Mm!" they chorused.
Outside, Song Nianchu found Mu Shi'an surrounded by apprentices, patiently answering their questions.
Their once-skeptical eyes now shone with admiration.
She slipped away quietly, heading to the village office.
"Aunt Wu, how’s progress?" Inside, the room buzzed with activity.
Some women had rolled up their sleeves, faces flushed and brows damp with sweat.
Song Nianchu made a mental note to prioritize hygiene—today’s trip to town would include buying supplies.
Finding a hair in a customer’s food would ruin their reputation fast.
"Ah, Nianchu, you’re back!" Aunt Wu spotted her first, hurrying over.
"Yes, I brought the labels." She smiled, handing them over.
"Perfect timing—we just finished washing the jars." Aunt Wu took the stack.
"Managing alright?" Song Nianchu asked.
