Mu Shi’an’s gaze fell upon Song Nianchu, and a faint smile slowly appeared on his lips.

“Our family listens to A-Chu.”

“Hahaha, good, good! Now that’s a real man!” Wu Zhenggui couldn’t help but burst into laughter upon hearing this.

“Uncle Zhenggui, go ahead and pick the workers first. Make sure to find some experienced ones. If you really can’t, then look for some quick-learning young people. Let’s start with five or six for now,” Song Nianchu instructed.

“Got it. I’ll go find them right away.” Wu Zhenggui left immediately, his movements noticeably more agile than usual. Song Nianchu couldn’t help but smile as she watched his retreating figure.

“Weren’t we supposed to let the villagers use it for free? Why are we suddenly charging rent?” After Wu Zhenggui left, Mu Shi’an finally voiced his confusion.

“When did I say it would be free for the villagers?” Song Nianchu raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t?” Mu Shi’an was taken aback. He had assumed they were on the same page.

“Mu Shi’an, I know you want to help everyone, but you need to understand something—human nature is complicated. If you give them something for free at first, they might be grateful. But over time, they’ll start taking it for granted, and some might even try to claim it as their own.”

“We do want to help people, but we have to do it the right way. Otherwise, you’ll end up helping them only to be blamed for it later,” Song Nianchu explained.

“Is that so?” Mu Shi’an looked bewildered.

“Never mind. You don’t need to worry about these things. Just focus on your research, and leave the rest to me.” Song Nianchu didn’t elaborate further.

After all, a researcher buried in his work would never fully grasp the tactics of the marketing department.

“Alright, I’ll leave it to you.” Mu Shi’an’s tone was firm.

Hearing this, Song Nianchu’s eyes curved into a smile, and she teased, “So, you’re handing over the net-weaving machine’s rental income to me too?”

“Of course.” Mu Shi’an nodded.

“You’re really giving it to me?” Song Nianchu was surprised.

“I’m not good at handling finances. Besides, you’re my wife now—isn’t it normal for me to give you the money?” Mu Shi’an said matter-of-factly.

“Mu Shi’an, if you keep this up, I might never let you go.” Song Nianchu stared at him intently.

Where else could she find a husband with such high awareness?

“Why would you let me go?” Mu Shi’an was puzzled.

In his mind, it was only natural for a man to hand over his earnings to his wife.

He didn’t see why his words had made Song Nianchu so emotional.

“Never mind. You should get back to work.” Song Nianchu didn’t continue the conversation.

“Mm.” Though still confused, Mu Shi’an obediently returned to his task.

If Song Nianchu didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t pry. He focused on his woodwork instead.

“…”

Wu Zhenggui, perhaps afraid Mu Shi’an might change his mind, returned in less than half an hour with five men in tow.

“Shi’an, come take a look and see if these fellows will do.” Wu Zhenggui approached cheerfully.

Mu Shi’an set down his tools.

“These two have some carpentry experience. The other three are the quickest learners in our village. You can test them out first—if they’re not suitable, I’ll find replacements,” Wu Zhenggui introduced.

“Alright.” Mu Shi’an nodded.

He gave the five men a simple assessment, testing both their theoretical knowledge and practical skills.

In the end, all five were kept on.

“Good, good! Listen to Shi’an while you’re working here. I’ll make sure you get full work points for your labor,” Wu Zhenggui reminded them.

“Yes!” the group chorused.

As long as they got full work points, they’d do anything.

With Mu Shi’an’s workload being heavy, he immediately assigned tasks to the new workers.

Song Nianchu watched for a while to ensure no one was taking advantage of Mu Shi’an before shouldering her basket of ingredients and heading to the village office.

Aunt Wu, Hua, and Wang Erya were already there. They rushed to greet Song Nianchu the moment they saw her.

As soon as she set down her basket, they efficiently began cleaning and preparing the ingredients.

“Nianchu, today’s supplies seem even more plentiful than yesterday’s,” Aunt Wu remarked.

“Yes, we need to prepare more canned goods,” Song Nianchu replied.

“Does that mean our dishes are selling well?” Aunt Wu’s voice was tinged with excitement.

“They are, very well.” Song Nianchu smiled.

“That’s wonderful!” Hua couldn’t contain her joy.

“Yeah, if the food sells, we can keep working here,” Wang Erya chimed in.

Meng Yingying, as usual, stayed quiet in the corner, mechanically working through her tasks.

“Aunt Wu, you all handle the fish first. I need to work on more labels,” Song Nianchu said.

“Go ahead, we’ve got this,” Aunt Wu assured her with a wave.

“Thanks.” Song Nianchu retreated to the inner room.

She took out paper and a pen and began sketching, but her progress was slow. By the end of the afternoon, she had only finished a little over a dozen.

This purely manual era was exhausting. Without a print shop and with most villagers never having held a pen, there was no one else to help.

When work ended, Song Nianchu carried the prepared ingredients and her stack of labels back home.

As she reached the door, she saw the five men Wu Zhenggui had brought earlier leaving her house.

“A-Chu, we’re heading out now. We’ll be back tomorrow morning,” said the eldest among them, a man who had watched Song Nianchu grow up.

“Alright.” Song Nianchu nodded with a smile.

After bidding them farewell, she stepped inside.

The yard was even messier than when she had left, littered with half-carved pieces of wood.

“This job really takes up space.”

“Sorry for making such a mess of your yard.” Mu Shi’an looked apologetic.

He knew Song Nianchu was particular about cleanliness, and the state of the yard must be bothering her.

“It’s fine. You’re doing this for the village.” Song Nianchu carried her basket into the kitchen.

Mu Shi’an followed and, without prompting, took his place by the stove.

The two moved like a long-married couple—one tending the fire, the other washing and chopping vegetables.

In less than half an hour, a steaming plate of steamed perch was ready, accompanied by a spicy shredded potato dish.

“Let’s eat.” Mu Shi’an served a bowl of rice and placed it in front of Song Nianchu.

“Thank you.” She accepted it.

“No need.” Mu Shi’an sat across from her, but his eyes caught the stack of labels beside her. “What are these?”

Song Nianchu followed his gaze, and her earlier cheerfulness faded into pensiveness.

“These are labels.”

“Labels?” Mu Shi’an looked puzzled.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep