Mu Shi’an looked at the egg pancake being offered to his lips, then met Song Nianchu’s smiling eyes. Without thinking, he lowered his head and took a bite from her hand.

Only after coming back to his senses did he realize how intimate the gesture might have seemed. He quickly sat up straight.

“How is it? Tasty?” Song Nianchu asked.

“…Mhm.” Mu Shi’an barely dared to look at her, nodding hastily in response.

Truthfully, he hadn’t even registered the flavor of that first bite—his heart was pounding too loudly.

“If it’s good, have some more.” Song Nianchu acted as if she hadn’t noticed his fluster, continuing to fry the pancakes.

“Turn the heat down a little,” she occasionally instructed, and Mu Shi’an obeyed without delay.

Within minutes, the stack of egg pancakes was ready.

“Put out the fire,” Song Nianchu said, carrying the pancakes to a small table nearby.

When she lived alone, she usually ate right in the kitchen—it saved her the trouble of moving dishes back and forth.

“Let’s have breakfast here this morning,” she suggested to Mu Shi’an.

“Sure.” He wasn’t particular about such things.

After extinguishing the stove fire, he joined her at the table.

“Eat up—we have work soon,” Song Nianchu reminded him.

“Mm.” Mu Shi’an didn’t hold back this time, picking up the half-eaten pancake and savoring it slowly.

Only now did he truly taste it—soft, fragrant, the richness of eggs mingling with the sharp freshness of scallions, perfectly masking any lingering gaminess. It was irresistible.

Song Nianchu could tell from his expression that he loved it.

So easy to please, she thought. He eats whatever I make.

She turned to fetch a jar of homemade chili paste from the cupboard, spreading a thin layer on her pancake before rolling it up and taking a bite.

The moment it touched her tongue, her entire face softened with contentment.

Nothing healed the soul like good food.

Noticing her enjoyment, Mu Shi’an glanced at the jar beside her.

She really seemed to love these homemade condiments.

“This is my special chili paste—hard to come by. Want to try some?” Song Nianchu offered.

Mu Shi’an wasn’t much for spicy food, but seeing her relish it so much, he nodded. He dabbed just a hint on his pancake, more for the experience than the heat.

The added kick transformed the flavor again—delicious, though he didn’t take more afterward.

Song Nianchu had said the paste was rare. Since she loved it so much, he’d leave the rest for her.

They polished off the entire plate of pancakes between them, warmth spreading through their bellies.

Right on cue, the work whistle sounded outside.

“You go ahead. I’ll wash the dishes and catch up,” Mu Shi’an said, gathering the plates.

“Alright.” Song Nianchu didn’t argue, heading out first.

Today’s tasks were the same as usual—weaving nets and repairing fishing gear.

But Song Nianchu, strong for her size, often joined the village men in cutting bamboo from the mountains, earning more work points than those who stayed behind.

When Mu Shi’an arrived at the work site, he couldn’t spot Song Nianchu anywhere. His brow furrowed.

Hadn’t she left before him? Why wasn’t she here?

“Brother.” Just as he scanned the crowd, a clear voice called out from behind him.

Mu Shi’an turned around and saw Mu Jingmei standing there.

“Brother, did you bring me any food this morning?” Mu Jingmei looked at him expectantly.

After eating the crispy fish he had brought back yesterday afternoon, she had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, just thinking about how delicious it was.

But knowing Mu Shi’an was now living at Song Nianchu’s place, she hadn’t dared to disturb him—until this morning, when she finally spotted him and mustered the courage to approach.

“No,” Mu Shi’an shook his head.

“You didn’t save any for me?” Mu Jingmei’s face instantly fell.

“Isn’t there money at home now? Didn’t Mom make you breakfast?” Mu Shi’an asked.

“You know how Mom’s cooking is. This morning, she just steamed a sweet potato for each of us,” Mu Jingmei complained.

Mu Shi’an frowned slightly. Mu Jingmei was the only girl in their family. Even though she had two much younger brothers, she had always been the most spoiled.

Even when the family fell into hardship and were sent to this remote fishing village, he had protected her every step of the way.

He used to think that was just his duty as an older brother. But after hearing Song Nianchu’s words yesterday, he had begun to realize—

Mu Jingmei was already seventeen. In another year, she’d be an adult.

And their family wasn’t what it used to be. It was time for her to shed those spoiled habits.

“Having sweet potatoes is already good. Have you forgotten the days when we could only drink a few sips of watery sweet potato porridge?” Mu Shi’an said sternly.

“Brother, what’s that supposed to mean? I didn’t say anything wrong. If you didn’t save me any, fine, but why scold me?” Mu Jingmei’s mood soured instantly.

In the past, no matter what good things Mu Shi’an had, he would always give them to her first.

All night, she had been imagining what treats he might bring her this morning. Yet not only had she gotten nothing, but she’d also been reprimanded.

“I’m not scolding you. I’m just stating the facts,” Mu Shi’an replied.

“What facts? You just think I’m annoying now! Did Song Nianchu say something to you? Did she tell you to cut ties with our family? Brother, don’t forget about us just because you’re married. We’re your blood family!” Mu Jingmei’s eyes reddened with anger.

“Keep your voice down,” Mu Shi’an said, noticing the curious glances from others nearby.

“Why should I? I didn’t do anything wrong! You’ve been married for less than two days, and already you look down on us? What kind of spell has that woman cast on you?” Mu Jingmei turned and ran off before he could respond.

Mu Shi’an started after her but stopped himself.

He knew this pattern—whenever Mu Jingmei didn’t get what she wanted, she would throw a tantrum.

Because every time she did, he and the rest of the family would rush to appease her.

And naturally, she would get her way.

But that kind of attitude wouldn’t help her survive in their current circumstances.

Song Nianchu had made it very clear yesterday—she was willing to cook for him because he was her husband now.

If he took her kindness and used it to cater to his family, she wouldn’t be happy.

Mu Jingmei wanted to eat egg pancakes. He could work harder to earn grain and trade it for eggs to give her, but he couldn’t take anything from Song Nianchu for her anymore.

Having made up his mind, Mu Shi’an moved to another spot and began weaving a fishing net.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep