“…Mm.” Mu’s mother responded softly, sitting down to pick up her chopsticks and eat.

But for the rest of the meal, she didn’t say another word.

“…”

The suggestions Mu Deyi had given Song Nianchu had inspired her greatly, so much so that she completely revised her future plans.

By the time Mu Shi’an returned from his bath, Song Nianchu was still sitting at the desk, writing furiously.

“A-Chu, aren’t you going to rest yet?” Mu Shi’an wore only a white undershirt, his hair still slightly damp.

As he lifted his hand to dry his hair, the hem of his shirt rose slightly, faintly revealing his lean waist.

Under the dim glow of the oil lamp, it carried a hazy allure, even more captivating.

Yet Song Nianchu didn’t even look up. “You go ahead and sleep. I need to finish this proposal.”

“…Me first?” Mu Shi’an paused mid-motion, towel in hand.

“Mm.” Song Nianchu nodded, then seemed to remember something. “Is the oil lamp too bright for you? I can move to the main room.”

She even started to get up, ready to leave.

“No, the light’s fine. I can sleep with it on,” Mu Shi’an quickly stopped her.

“Alright, then you go ahead and sleep.” Satisfied, Song Nianchu sat back down and resumed her frantic writing.

Mu Shi’an: “…”

Lying in bed, Mu Shi’an watched Song Nianchu hunched slightly over the desk, his gaze softening bit by bit.

In the past, he had always disliked anyone disrupting his life or throwing off his rhythm.

Yet for some reason, when Song Nianchu barged into his world, he hadn’t felt the slightest annoyance.

Even now, with the two of them doing their own things in silence, he still felt an inexplicable sense of peace.

He was beginning to understand why everyone longed for a home…

“…”

Mu Shi’an didn’t remember when he had fallen asleep last night. He only knew that when he woke, Song Nianchu was no longer by the bed, and the desk across the room was empty.

He threw off the covers and stepped out of the room, just in time to see Song Nianchu heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Mu Shi’an asked, puzzled.

“I’m going to see your dad!” Song Nianchu’s eyes sparkled.

“My dad?” Mu Shi’an frowned.

“Yeah! Yesterday, he gave me some really practical suggestions, and I want to discuss them with him in more detail.” Her voice was brimming with excitement.

Mu Shi’an: “…”

“I’ll head out now.” Song Nianchu waved at him and strode off without another word.

Mu Shi’an wanted to remind her that it was still early—his father might not even be awake yet.

But before he could say anything, she was already gone.

He sighed quietly. Somehow, it felt like Song Nianchu was more enthusiastic about his father than she was about him.

Sure enough, when Song Nianchu arrived at the Mu household, the courtyard gate was still shut tight, with no movement inside.

She had been so excited that she’d completely forgotten the time.

In the end, she had no choice but to return home.

Mu Shi’an wasn’t the least bit surprised to see her back.

“I boiled some eggs and sweet potatoes. We’ll have those for breakfast,” he said.

“Mm.” Song Nianchu nodded.

“After we eat, we’ll head out for work. You’ll see my dad then—there’s no need to rush this.”

“Mm.” She agreed.

This was just how she was—when something important came up, she’d work through the night to get it done.

“Come on, let’s eat.” Mu Shi’an took her hand and led her toward the kitchen.

“…”

By the time they finished breakfast, the work whistle had already sounded outside.

Song Nianchu slung a basket over her shoulder and set off for the village office. Halfway there, she worried Mu Deyi might not remember the way, so she detoured to the Mu house.

Just as she arrived, the three Mu family members were stepping out of the courtyard.

“What are you doing here?” Mu Jingmei’s expression darkened the moment she saw Song Nianchu.

“I’m not here for you.” Song Nianchu rolled her eyes before turning a bright smile toward Mu Deyi.

“Uncle, I was worried you might not know where the village office is on your first day, so I came to walk with you.”

“Mm.” Mu Deyi responded indifferently.

“Let’s go, then.” Song Nianchu paid no mind to his cool demeanor.

“Alright.”

“…”

After the two left, Mu Jingmei’s face twisted with fury.

This woman had already snagged her brother and younger brother—now she was after their father too? Was she determined to steal everyone around her?

“Jingmei, you should be more polite to Song Nianchu from now on,” Mu’s mother said.

“What?” Mu Jingmei, still seething, nearly lost control of her expression.

“She secured a full-workday job for your father. That alone deserves some courtesy.” Mu’s mother was startled by the sheer hatred in her daughter’s eyes but pressed on.

“Mom, do you really think she’s doing this out of kindness? She’s just using Dad! Just wait—once she’s done, she’ll toss him aside!” Mu Jingmei spat through gritted teeth.

“Jingmei—” Mu’s mother tried to continue, but Mu Jingmei had already turned and stormed off.

Watching her retreating figure, Mu’s mother felt an increasing tightness in her chest.

But she steeled herself and headed to the square to weave fishing nets—people like them weren’t allowed to take time off.

“…”

Meanwhile, Song Nianchu walked with Mu Deyi toward the village office, wasting no time as she pulled out the notebook he’d given her the day before and began discussing her ideas.

At first, Mu Deyi had assumed Song Nianchu wouldn’t have much substance to offer—his notes the previous day had been casual at best.

But to his surprise, every point she raised was precise, even expanding on and refining his own suggestions.

His gaze toward her gradually shifted.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something incorrect?” Song Nianchu’s voice grew quieter under Mu Deyi’s prolonged stare.

Had her ideas been too progressive? Was she overwhelming him?

And this was already the toned-down version.

“Did you really grow up in this fishing village?” Mu Deyi finally voiced his doubt.

“Of course. Everyone in the village can vouch for me.” Song Nianchu’s heart skipped a beat, but her expression remained unchanged.

“Then where did you learn all this?”

A faint smile touched her lips. “I’ve always helped with deliveries for the village. You pick things up when you’re out and about.”

“That’s all?”

“What else could there be?” She blinked innocently.

Mu Deyi found no trace of deception in her and finally looked away.

Right—what was he suspecting?

Perhaps he was just impressed.

At her age, he’d still been a novice, trailing behind his father as an errand boy.

No wonder all three of his sons were so taken with her.

“Uncle, this is the village office,” Song Nianchu said as Mu Deyi’s thoughts wandered.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep