Song Nianchu couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation as she watched him struggle for so long only to come up with such a feeble response.

“Mu Shi’an, have you forgotten? I even gave your mother 200 yuan as a betrothal gift,” Song Nianchu said, determined to make him understand the situation clearly.

She didn’t want her partner to keep skimping on meals, saving his share for his parents.

“I know…” Mu Shi’an nodded.

“Do you know how much 200 yuan can buy? Your parents won’t starve anytime soon. You’ve already done enough for them, so start thinking more about yourself from now on,” Song Nianchu said firmly.

“I…” Mu Shi’an was at a loss for words.

Ever since he was born, everyone had told him, “You’re the eldest son of the Mu family. The future prosperity of the Mu family rests on your shoulders.”

“You must be filial to your parents and take care of your younger siblings.” No one had ever told him, “You should think more about yourself.”

“Mu Shi’an, let me be blunt—I won’t accept a man with no strength. If you starve yourself to the point of gasping after a single step, I’ll have to return you,” Song Nianchu added fiercely, afraid he wouldn’t take her words seriously.

Mu Shi’an belatedly realized what she meant by “strength,” and his shocked expression quickly turned awkward.

“I won’t… do it again,” Mu Shi’an said.

Though his voice was soft, his sincerity was unmistakable.

“Good. Eat more and build up your strength. I don’t want outsiders saying I’m exploiting you,” Song Nianchu replied.

“You… should eat first,” Mu Shi’an said, steering the conversation away, unsure how to respond.

Song Nianchu picked up her chopsticks but pressed further, “You still haven’t told me—you left so much food for me. What did you eat?”

Mu Shi’an hesitated, but under her gaze, he answered truthfully.

“I had chili mixed with rice.”

“But you don’t even like chili,” Song Nianchu frowned.

“Yours was delicious,” Mu Shi’an said, not entirely lying.

The chili she made was tasty even when mixed with plain rice.

“Bring me a bowl,” Song Nianchu ordered.

Confused, Mu Shi’an complied.

She divided her rice into two portions and pushed one toward him.

“Eat with me.”

“I’ve already eaten,” Mu Shi’an refused immediately.

“Are you sure you’re full?” Song Nianchu challenged.

Mu Shi’an: “…”

“Stop dawdling. The food will get cold,” she said, picking up her chopsticks.

After a moment, Mu Shi’an slowly followed suit.

He ate slowly, his eyes downcast, but this was the most comforting meal he’d had since his family’s troubles began.

After dinner, Mu Shi’an washed the dishes without being asked.

Song Nianchu fetched hot water for a bath, then went to bed, her mind drifting to whether Manager Li had tried the canned food she’d given him.

He must have—she’d reminded him before leaving, and his expression had clearly shown interest.

She’d check in with him tomorrow.

Exhausted from the day’s efforts and the long walk, Song Nianchu soon fell asleep.

Noticing she’d retired, Mu Shi’an tidied the kitchen, then washed up in the bathhouse.

He scrubbed every inch of himself meticulously with soapberries.

Living in the fishing village for so long, he always felt like he carried the scent of the sea.

Song Nianchu was particular about cleanliness—taking extra care might please her.

He lingered in the bath a little longer, returning to the bedroom with a hint of shyness.

Memories of the previous night surfaced unbidden—Song Nianchu seemed to prefer taking charge, even pinning him down at one point.

Should he be more proactive tonight? Or let her lead again?

Lost in thought, Mu Shi’an climbed into bed without daring to look at her.

But after waiting in vain for any movement, he finally glanced over.

Song Nianchu was already fast asleep.

Mu Shi’an: “…”

Watching her peaceful expression, he chuckled softly.

What had he been thinking?

He pulled the blanket over her and closed his eyes.

The next morning, Song Nianchu woke up refreshed.

Her body had remarkable stamina—no matter how much she exerted herself, a good night’s sleep restored her completely.

The bed was empty, the sheets beside her long cold. Mu Shi’an must have been up for a while.

She dressed and stepped outside.

A thin wisp of smoke rose from the kitchen chimney. Curious, she headed over.

Mu Shi’an had actually managed to light the fire and was now sketching something by the stove.

“You really learned how to start a fire?” Song Nianchu asked, surprised.

“It wasn’t as hard as I thought,” Mu Shi’an smiled, putting away his paper and pen.

He was already handsome, but when he smiled, Song Nianchu found him downright mesmerizing.

Back when she ran her company, she’d prided herself on being unshakable, scoffing at clients who splurged fortunes on lovers.

Now she realized she’d been too arrogant—if the person in question were Mu Shi’an, she might very well empty her pockets for him too.

“The pan should be hot now. I’m hopeless at cooking, so breakfast is up to you,” Mu Shi’an said, oblivious to her distraction.

“No problem,” Song Nianchu replied, tearing her gaze away and scolding herself inwardly.

She’d already brought him home—what was the harm in looking?

Tonight, she’d make him hers.

She scooped flour from a sack in the corner, grabbed two eggs, and got to work.

Today’s breakfast would be scallion egg pancakes.

After mixing the flour with warm water and eggs into a batter, she stepped outside to pluck a few scallions from the yard, chopped them, and stirred them in.

Once the batter was ready, she greased the hot pan and poured it in. The sizzle was immediate, and soon the kitchen filled with a rich, savory aroma.

The pancakes cooked quickly, needing just a minute per side.

She slid the first one onto a plate and handed it to Mu Shi’an.

“Try it,” she urged.

She loved feeding people—in her past life, whenever she had time, she’d cook for her employees.

Many of her earliest team members had stayed loyal purely because of her cooking.

Now, she planned to use the same tactic on Mu Shi’an.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep