The Capitalist’s Spoiled Young Master? Perfect to Take Home as a Husband

Chapter 80

"What's wrong? Is the budget too difficult?" Song Nianchu asked, noticing Mu Deyi staring at her absentmindedly. She briefly wondered if she had said something wrong.

"Difficult? What’s so hard about such a small budget?" Mu Deyi retorted without thinking.

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He had just volunteered for extra work.

"If it’s not difficult, then it’s all yours," Song Nianchu said, her face lighting up with delight.

Mu Deyi: "..."

He should have known better than to speak carelessly in front of this girl.

Now he wanted to go back on his word—gentleman’s promise be damned!

Ahem…

Mu Shi'an, standing nearby, cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to catch Song Nianchu’s attention.

"Ah-Chu, haven’t you eaten yet? Let’s go back and have lunch first."

"Oh, right! Uncle, you haven’t eaten either, right? The budget isn’t urgent…" Song Nianchu quickly caught on.

Mu Deyi’s expression softened slightly, but before he could relax, she added—

"You can finish it after lunch."

Mu Deyi: "!!!"

"Out! Both of you, out!" Mu Deyi raised a trembling finger, pointing at Song Nianchu and Mu Shi'an.

"Huh?" Song Nianchu blinked in confusion.

Afraid his father might actually renege, Mu Shi'an immediately took Song Nianchu’s hand and led her away.

Even after leaving the Mu household, he didn’t let go.

"Your father’s temper is nothing like yours," Song Nianchu mused, not pulling her hand back as they walked.

Mu Shi'an glanced down at her with a meaningful look. "Actually, my father’s temper is quite good."

"That’s considered good? How did you survive your childhood?" she asked, astonished.

Mu Shi'an didn’t know how to explain. His father was usually level-headed—except when it came to Song Nianchu.

"Don’t worry, I’ll make up for your unhappy childhood!" she said gently, thinking she had touched a sore spot.

Mu Shi'an: "..."

"...Alright," he replied, suppressing a smile.

"Come on, let’s go home and I’ll cook something delicious for you." She tightened her grip on his hand and led him toward their house.

A faint smile tugged at Mu Shi'an’s lips as he let her pull him along.

Meanwhile, back at the Mu residence…

Mu Deyi had calmed down somewhat, rubbing his temples where a dull ache lingered. Remembering the determined look in Song Nianchu’s eyes, he resigned himself to working on the budget she wanted.

He had come to realize one thing—once that girl set her mind on something, she wouldn’t let it go.

If he refused, she’d buzz around him like an insistent bee.

"Dad." Mu Jingmei suddenly called out to him.

"What is it?" Mu Deyi turned.

"Are you really going to be the accountant for Qinghe Fishing Village?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes," he confirmed.

He had already promised Mu Shi'an, and he wouldn’t go back on his word.

Besides, Song Nianchu might be cunning, but he had been doing accounts since he could read.

A small fishing village’s finances were nothing to him.

And earning full work points for it was far easier than weaving nets or going out to sea.

He wasn’t foolish enough to refuse.

"But Dad, you’ve always hired others to handle accounts. Someone of your stature shouldn’t be managing books for others," Mu Jingmei said, a hint of displeasure in her voice.

"Jingmei!" Mu Deyi’s sharp reprimand cut her off.

She flinched.

"Have you forgotten why our family was sent here? Spouting nonsense like that—do you think our situation isn’t bad enough already?" His tone was stern.

"I-I’m sorry. I just felt it was unfair to you," she stammered, lowering her head.

"Unfair? They’re paying in work points, aren’t they? From now on, speak less and work more." With that, he left for his room.

Scolded like this, Mu Jingmei only grew more resentful.

She had hoped to sweet-talk her father into letting her take the accounting job.

But one sentence in, and she had been shut down.

It was clear—in her father’s eyes, she meant nothing.

"Jingmei, don’t be upset. Your father’s just trying to protect our family. If others heard what you said, we could be punished again," Mu's mother said, oblivious to her daughter’s scheming.

"I know," Mu Jingmei forced a smile.

With both her father and brother displeased with her, her mother was the only one left to manipulate.

No matter how unwilling, she had to keep her close.

……

At the Song household…

Lunch was over.

"After you wash the dishes, put Haoxuan and Yongnian down for a nap. I’m heading to the village office," Song Nianchu said, hoisting a large bamboo basket.

"Aren’t you going to rest?" Mu Shi'an frowned.

"No, there’s a lot to do today. I need to get started early." She shook her head, already stepping out of the kitchen.

Mu Shi'an opened his mouth as if to say something, but the words died on his lips.

He couldn’t help with the kitchen work, but watching Song Nianchu exhaust herself like this pained him.

He needed to find a way to make things easier for her.

After washing the dishes and tidying up, he returned to the main room.

Inside, Yongnian and Haoxuan were already busy stamping labels again.

"You two aren’t resting either?" Mu Shi'an was surprised.

"Big Sis hasn’t rested, and we’re not tired," Yongnian said.

For lunch, she had made them braised pork ribs.

After eating so well, they had to work harder.

"Then rest when you’re tired," Mu Shi'an said, not wanting to dampen their enthusiasm.

"Mm!" Yongnian nodded vigorously.

Mu Shi'an retreated to his and Song Nianchu’s room.

But instead of napping, he picked up his notebook and pen from the bedside.

The first page held his design for a net-weaving machine. Flipping to a blank sheet, he began sketching again.

"……"

By now, Song Nianchu had reached the village office.

Aunt Wu and Hua were sitting on the courtyard steps, chatting and laughing about something.

"What’s so funny?" Song Nianchu called out.

"Ah-Chu, you’re here!" Aunt Wu stood up.

The others followed suit.

"Sorry I’m late today," Song Nianchu said, setting down her basket with a smile.

"Don’t worry, we got to chat a bit longer because of it," Aunt Wu teased.

The others laughed in agreement.

"You still haven’t told me what you were talking about," Song Nianchu pressed, curious.