Finally, Song Nianchu and the others worked until past nine in the evening, finally finishing processing all the ingredients. Everyone was exhausted, their backs and shoulders aching.
"I’m really sorry for making everyone work so hard. Go home and rest well tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to the village chief about arranging more helpers," Song Nianchu said apologetically.
"It’s fine. It’s not like we have much to do at home anyway. We can manage," Aunt Wu quickly reassured her.
"Then everyone should head back now," Song Nianchu said, knowing that the delay today was because the newcomers weren’t yet familiar with the work. A few more days, and they’d surely get faster.
"Alright!" Everyone dispersed to their homes.
Meng Yingying was the last to leave. As she passed Song Nianchu, she couldn’t help but glance at her a few times.
But when Song Nianchu looked up, Meng Yingying immediately hurried away.
Song Nianchu found it a little odd but didn’t dwell on it. She hoisted the prepared ingredients onto her back and started for home.
Just as she stepped out of the village office, she suddenly noticed a flickering light in the distance, moving toward her.
Curious, Song Nianchu walked forward and was stunned when she recognized the figure.
"What are you doing here?" It was Mu Shi'an.
He was holding a kerosene lamp.
"You were late coming back. I was worried the road would be too dark, so I came to meet you," Mu Shi'an said, stepping closer.
He instinctively reached out to take the load from her but then remembered the disparity in their strength and withdrew his hand.
He’d just light the way for her.
"The moon’s bright tonight. I can see just fine," Song Nianchu said. The air here was still unpolluted, and the moonlight in the countryside was especially clear.
"Even with moonlight, it’s not safe for a girl to walk alone at night," Mu Shi'an insisted.
"But you forget—I’m stronger than most," Song Nianchu reminded him.
Mu Shi'an: "…"
Seeing him finally at a loss for words, Song Nianchu took a step forward, turned around, and walked backward, facing him.
"Mu Shi'an, you know perfectly well that no one can easily take advantage of me because of my strength, and this is the village I grew up in—I know every path like the back of my hand. Yet you still came to meet me. Mu Shi'an, you’re so good to me. How should I repay you?"
Song Nianchu stared at Mu Shi'an’s face, illuminated by the lamp, making his handsome features even more striking. Hua’s question from earlier flashed through her mind.
Just how skilled was this beautiful man? She really wanted to find out.
"Be careful walking like that—you might fall," Mu Shi'an said, reaching out to steady her.
But Song Nianchu grabbed his hand instead. The cool touch of her fingers against his palm made the kerosene lamp in his other hand tremble slightly.
"Mu Shi'an, how do you want me to repay you? How about… a wedding night?" Song Nianchu tightened her grip on his hand, her gaze unwavering.
Mu Shi'an’s chest tightened under that look, his steps suddenly unsteady.
A wedding… night?
Mu Shi'an wasn’t sure how Song Nianchu led him home. He only knew that before she went to wash up, she specifically told him to wait for her in bed.
Left alone in the room, Mu Shi'an felt his breathing grow uneven. He paced in circles before noticing how bare the room seemed. Then he turned and walked to the nearby cabinet.
Song Nianchu spent five minutes longer than usual in the bath, scrubbing every inch of herself clean.
Once satisfied, she carried her basin back to the room—only to find it transformed.
On the bed lay a large, carefully folded "double happiness" character made from the quilt.
Song Nianchu froze in surprise.
"How did you do this?" She set the basin down and stepped closer, curious.
"I… wanted to decorate the room, but I couldn’t find the paper cutouts from last time. So I used the quilt instead," Mu Shi'an said, his voice rough.
"Honestly, Comrade Mu, your cooking skills might be at rock bottom, but everything else about you is perfect," Song Nianchu said, giving him a thumbs-up.
"But it’s not red…" Mu Shi'an’s expression darkened with guilt.
He’d never given much thought to what kind of wedding he’d give his future wife, but at the very least, she should have what others did.
Yet now, he couldn’t even give her a proper red "double happiness" character.
"Who cares if it’s not red? I bet no bride has ever gotten a 'double happiness' folded from bedsheets by her groom. I love things that are one-of-a-kind!" Song Nianchu lamented not having a phone—otherwise, she’d have snapped a picture of this perfectly square, military-neat character and posted it online.
It might’ve even gone viral.
"You… like it?" Mu Shi'an’s eyes brightened slightly.
"Yes. I love it," Song Nianchu repeated, meeting his gaze.
The room was lit only by the dim kerosene lamp, but the tension between them burned brighter than the flame.
Song Nianchu had been thinking about this for days. Now, with Mu Shi'an being so proactive, she couldn’t hold back any longer.
She lunged forward, grabbed his collar, and yanked him down. Rising onto her toes, she pressed her lips to his.
Mu Shi'an seemed startled by her boldness, but after a moment, he responded fervently, his large hands settling on her slender waist and pulling her flush against him.
In an instant, his arms were full, his senses flooded with the scent of soap on her skin.
The fragrance seemed to seep into his lungs, spreading through his veins like wildfire.
Mu Shi'an’s kisses grew more urgent, until Song Nianchu could barely keep up. Dizzy, she clung to his neck for balance.
Noticing her struggle, Mu Shi'an swept her into his arms, his eyes dark with desire as he carried her to the bed.
"My 'double happiness'—" Song Nianchu protested.
"It’s fine. If you like it, I’ll fold one for you every day," Mu Shi'an rasped, brushing the quilt aside and laying her down.
He swiftly pulled off his undershirt, revealing a toned, muscular chest.
Song Nianchu swallowed hard. She’d been right—this man was all lean strength beneath his clothes.
"Like what you see?" Mu Shi'an noticed her stare and leaned closer.
"...Yes," she murmured, dazed.
"Then touch me." Mu Shi'an took her hand and pressed it to his chest.
