Song Nianchu listened to Mu Shi’an’s words and stared at him for a long while without speaking.

“What’s wrong?” Mu Shi’an looked even more confused.

“Nothing. I just suddenly agree with what you said earlier—that your family still favors sons over daughters,” Song Nianchu murmured.

“Huh?” Mu Shi’an didn’t quite understand what she meant.

“Your grandfather and father really raised you well. If you had stayed in your field, you would’ve left a lasting legacy.” A sincere smile appeared on Song Nianchu’s face.

She had once thought her own perspective was decent, but compared to Mu Shi’an, she seemed lacking.

This man genuinely wanted to serve the people.

She suddenly recalled a line she had once read in a textbook:

“Study for the rise of the Chinese nation.”

In their youth, everyone had ideals, but once they stepped into society, that pure heart would be eroded by all kinds of desires. You’d only chase personal satisfaction, no longer seeing the millions of ordinary people.

Yet, even after enduring such a drastic change in circumstances, Mu Shi’an’s original intentions remained completely unshaken.

She suddenly felt that his noble heart might be even more precious than his handsome face.

“A lasting legacy? You really have high expectations of me.” Mu Shi’an blinked, then lowered his gaze with a soft chuckle.

“Of course! My judgment of people has always been accurate. You’ll achieve even greater things in the future!” Song Nianchu’s eyes burned with conviction.

Before, she had only admired Mu Shi’an for his good looks and scholarly demeanor—thinking their children would likely inherit excellent genes.

But now, she truly wanted to protect him.

This turbulent era would soon pass. A talent like him shouldn’t be wasted here. When the dawn finally breaks, he would undoubtedly make tremendous contributions to the nation and its people.

For now, she would take it upon herself to cherish him on behalf of the country and its people.

“Then I’ll take your words as a blessing.” Mu Shi’an’s eyes crinkled with warmth.

“You absolutely will!” Song Nianchu’s expression was unwavering.

Mu Shi’an’s demeanor softened as well.

“Go ahead with your work. I’ll go fetch Uncle Zhengui.” Once she confirmed Mu Shi’an was willing to share the technology, Song Nianchu didn’t delay and turned to find Wu Zhenggui.

Wu Zhenggui had just sat down at the dinner table and taken a sip of watery porridge when Song Nianchu pushed the door open.

“Uncle Zhengui, I need to discuss something with you. Are you finished eating?”

“Give me a moment.” Wu Zhenggui, assuming something had gone wrong at the kitchen workshop, quickly downed the rest of his porridge in one gulp, set the bowl aside, and stood up.

“Let’s go.”

Song Nianchu glanced at Wu Zhenggui’s dinner table—another bowl of watery sweet potato porridge, barely more than flavored water. It might stave off hunger for a moment, but the emptiness would return soon.

“Mm.” She nodded and led Wu Zhenggui away.

“Did something happen at the kitchen workshop?” Wu Zhenggui asked worriedly.

“No.” Song Nianchu shook her head.

Wu Zhenggui exhaled in relief.

As long as the workshop was fine, everything else could be managed. The entire village was counting on that project to survive.

He followed Song Nianchu all the way back to her home.

“Nianchu, why did you bring me here?” Wu Zhenggui finally couldn’t hold back his curiosity.

“To show you something amazing.” Song Nianchu guided him inside and straight to Mu Shi’an’s side.

Wu Zhenggui stared at Mu Shi’an for a long moment, then sighed helplessly.

“Nianchu, this ‘amazing thing’ was something I found for you. Why are you showing him to me?”

Song Nianchu: “!!!”

Mu Shi’an: “???”

“Uncle Zhengui, I didn’t mean him! Look at this.” Song Nianchu quickly pointed at the net-weaving machine beside them.

“What is this?” Wu Zhenggui’s gaze shifted from Mu Shi’an to the unfamiliar contraption.

“Let me demonstrate, and you’ll see.” Song Nianchu retrieved some old fishing line from the house and threaded it into the machine, following the steps Mu Shi’an had taught her.

Then, she pressed the pedal. As the machine whirred to life, the fishing line gradually transformed into a net.

“This… What’s happening?” Wu Zhenggui’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he watched the net emerge from the machine.

“Uncle Zhengui, this is a net-weaving machine Shi’an invented. Just feed the fishing line into it, press the pedal, and it automatically weaves the net for you,” Song Nianchu explained with a smile.

“A machine like this? And Mu Shi’an made it?” For a moment, Wu Zhenggui wondered if hunger was making him hallucinate. How else could he explain what he was seeing?

“Yes, he designed it.” Song Nianchu looked at Mu Shi’an with undisguised pride.

Mu Shi’an, flustered by her direct gaze, quickly averted his eyes.

“Is… is this really real?” Wu Zhenggui instinctively reached out to touch the miraculous machine but hesitated, afraid of breaking it.

“Uncle Zhengui, why not try it yourself and see?” Song Nianchu encouraged.

“No, no, I shouldn’t. If I break something this valuable, it’d be a huge loss.” Wu Zhenggui waved his hands frantically.

“It’s not that fragile—just made of wood. Even if it breaks, I can fix it,” Mu Shi’an reassured the hunched old man, his tone gentle.

“Really… can I?” Wu Zhenggui glanced uncertainly at Song Nianchu.

“Really!” she affirmed.

Wu Zhenggui took a deep breath. Though still nervous, his curiosity won out, and he shuffled forward with trembling steps.

Song Nianchu patiently explained each step, demonstrating as she went.

“Uncle Zhengui, now you can try it yourself.” Once she was sure he understood, she stepped aside.

“Maybe… explain it a few more times?” Wu Zhenggui wavered.

“You’ve got it! Just press the pedal—I’m right here. What’s there to fear?” Song Nianchu laughed.

“Then… I’ll try?” He swallowed hard.

Mimicking Song Nianchu’s earlier motions, he pressed the pedal. A few more centimeters of netting emerged.

“Keep going,” she urged.

Seeing the machine unharmed, Wu Zhenggui grew bolder, pressing the pedal again and again.

The net continued to unfurl. His movements grew smoother, more precise. Soon, the old fishing line Song Nianchu had provided was fully woven, and the finished net dropped with a soft thud.

Wu Zhenggui hurriedly picked it up, examining it closely.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep