Song Nianchu stepped forward to inspect it and found it almost exactly as she had requested.

“Aunt Wu, your craftsmanship is truly impressive,” Song Nianchu remarked, visibly astonished.

“Really? I learned this skill from my father before I got married. Over the years, I’ve only ever built stoves for my own home,” Aunt Wu replied, slightly embarrassed by the praise.

“That’s a bit of a shame. You could start a side business helping others build stoves,” Song Nianchu said with a smile.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that. This kind of work is usually done by men,” Aunt Wu protested, waving her hands dismissively.

Hearing this, Song Nianchu’s expression grew more serious.

“Aunt Wu, whether someone can do this work depends on their ability, not their gender. Look at me—I can go up the mountain to chop and carry bamboo just like the men, even though I’m a woman.”

Aunt Wu’s face flickered with surprise at these words, and even Hua and the others were momentarily stunned.

No one had ever spoken to them like this before.

From childhood, they’d always been told: You’re women, so you should stay home to wash clothes, cook, and raise children.

You’re women—how could you possibly do this kind of work?

You’re women, so just stay at home and behave.

They had never questioned these words, even passing them down to their own children.

But now, hearing Song Nianchu’s perspective, it suddenly made sense.

“Nianchu, you have extraordinary strength. Ordinary folks like us can’t compare to you,” Aunt Wu said after a brief pause, quickly regaining her composure.

The others also snapped back to reality, as if the momentary shock had been nothing more than an illusion.

Seeing their reaction, Song Nianchu didn’t press further.

Liberating women’s minds couldn’t be achieved with just a few words—especially since they had never received any formal education.

But she wasn’t in a hurry. There was plenty of time. Only when someone truly gained the ability to stand up to life would their perspective on the world change.

“Aunt Wu, I might need you to build two more stoves for me. I’m heading to the market to buy some ingredients,” Song Nianchu said, seeing that Aunt Wu and the others could handle the task with ease. She didn’t linger any longer.

“Sure, go ahead. Leave the work here to us,” Aunt Wu replied cheerfully.

The others had no objections either. After all, weaving fishing nets until their fingers blistered didn’t even earn them full work points.

But here, building three stoves guaranteed full points, and no one was watching over them. This was the kind of job that deserved their utmost effort.

“Alright,” Song Nianchu nodded before leaving.

This time, she needed a lot of ingredients, so she carried a large bamboo basket on her back.

Before heading to the market, she made a stop at the hospital.

As soon as she reached the upstairs corridor, she saw Mu Shi’an supporting his father as they practiced walking.

By sheer coincidence, their eyes met.

For a moment, Song Nianchu wasn’t sure whether to greet him or pretend she hadn’t noticed.

Their last conversation hadn’t exactly ended on a pleasant note.

“Nianchu, what brings you here?” Mu Shi’an finally broke the silence.

Song Nianchu glanced at Mu’s Father—he seemed fine, not trembling with anger like before.

“I’m going to the market for ingredients and thought I’d stop by to see you,” she said, adjusting the basket on her back as she approached.

“I’m doing well here. No need to worry,” Mu Shi’an replied gently.

“I can see that,” Song Nianchu said, casting another glance at Mu’s Father.

If he could already walk, he must be out of danger.

“Did the doctor say when you can be discharged? I’ll come pick you up,” she asked.

After all, recovering from a serious illness, Mu’s Father wouldn’t be able to walk the two hours back home.

“We’ll be discharged the day after tomorrow,” Mu Shi’an answered.

“Good. I’ll come get you then,” Song Nianchu nodded.

Mu Shi’an was about to decline, but she cut him off.

“You might be able to walk back, but can your father? Or are you planning to carry him all the way by yourself?”

Mu Shi’an hesitated. The walk from the county town took over two hours—carrying his father alone would indeed be difficult.

“It’s settled then. I’ll bring a cart to pick you up,” Song Nianchu said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Mu Shi’an finally conceded.

“No trouble at all. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head to the market now,” she said, not lingering further.

“Alright,” Mu Shi’an nodded.

Before leaving, Song Nianchu gave Mu’s Father a polite nod, but he didn’t respond.

Unfazed, she turned and walked away briskly.

Mu Shi’an’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure, even long after she had disappeared from sight.

“Stop staring. She’s already gone,” Mu’s Father couldn’t help but comment.

Only then did Mu Shi’an snap out of it.

“Dad, let’s walk a bit more,” he said softly, lowering his eyes to hide his emotions.

Mu’s Father studied him for a moment, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately swallowed his words and let his son support him as they continued pacing the corridor.

Having been bedridden for so long, his leg muscles had weakened, and now he needed extensive exercise to regain strength.

The doctor had advised a longer recovery period in the hospital, but the ten yuan Song Nianchu had given them was already spent. With Mu’s Father insisting on leaving, Mu Shi’an had no choice but to agree.

He planned to ensure his father kept up with exercises once they returned home.

After leaving the hospital, Song Nianchu went straight to the market.

By now, the stalls were nearly closing, so prices had dropped significantly. She returned with a fully loaded basket.

Back at the village office, Aunt Wu and the others had already finished building all three stoves and were now lighting fires to dry them.

“Aunt Wu, you all work fast,” Song Nianchu said as soon as she entered, spotting the new stoves.

“Nianchu, you’re back,” Aunt Wu greeted her, instinctively moving to help unload the heavy basket from her back.

But as Song Nianchu shifted her weight, the basket nearly toppled Aunt Wu over.

Luckily, Song Nianchu reacted quickly and steadied it.

“Aunt Wu, are you okay?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I just underestimated how heavy it was—you made it look so easy,” Aunt Wu said, regaining her balance with a wave of her hand.

“After all this time, you still haven’t gotten used to it?” Song Nianchu chuckled as she set the basket down.

Aunt Wu smiled sheepishly. In her eyes, Song Nianchu was like a daughter to her.

She often forgot just how strong the young woman was.

“Nianchu, what did you buy? The basket’s packed full,” Hua asked curiously.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep