“Chu, since your man has come to bring you food, I won’t share mine with you anymore,” Aunt Wu teased, looking at Song Nianchu with a playful grin.

“Alright, you enjoy yours then,” Song Nianchu replied with ease, showing no trace of shyness.

She then glanced up at Mu Shi’an and asked, “Shall we go inside to eat?”

“Sure,” Mu Shi’an nodded.

Song Nianchu led Mu Shi’an into Mu Deyi’s office.

As soon as they left, the others exchanged knowing smiles.

“Before, I thought they might not make a good couple, but now it seems I was wrong,” Aunt Wu chuckled.

“That Mu Shi’an is truly handsome. Standing next to Chu, they look like a perfect match—they were meant to be together,” Hua couldn’t help but gush.

“Can you imagine how beautiful their children will be?” Wang Erya sighed enviously.

“They’d be as lovely as the babies on New Year paintings,” Hua said, as if she could already picture Song Nianchu and Mu Shi’an’s future child.

“Haha, do you think we could arrange a betrothal for them?” Wang Erya joked.

“Don’t even think about it. We’re all from the same village—you know marriages within the village aren’t allowed,” Hua huffed.

If such a betrothal were possible, she’d be the first to jump at the opportunity.

“True, what a shame,” Wang Erya lamented deeply.

“Alright, enough sighing. There’s still plenty of work to do—finish your meal and get back to it,” Hua urged.

“Right, keeping busy will make me forget the disappointment,” Wang Erya said, packing up her bowl and returning to preparing ingredients.

Nearby, Meng Yingying overheard their conversation and quickened her movements.

Inside the room, Song Nianchu sat at Mu Deyi’s desk and opened the lunchbox.

It was divided into two sections: one side held a potato and a sweet potato, while the other had a fried egg—though slightly burnt.

“I’m still not very good at this. Next time, it won’t be burnt,” Mu Shi’an said sheepishly.

No matter how complex a problem he faced, he could always find the right solution, but when it came to cooking, he couldn’t even grasp the basics.

“It’s fine. A little burnt adds flavor,” Song Nianchu said, picking up the egg with her chopsticks and taking a bite.

Hmm…

Lying really did come with consequences.

The moment she bit down, there was a crunch—eggshell was mixed in.

“What’s wrong? Does it taste bad?” Mu Shi’an asked anxiously, noticing her sudden pause.

Cough…

“…You left eggshell in it,” Song Nianchu finally admitted.

“Ah? There’s eggshell? Spit it out, quick!” Mu Shi’an frantically looked around for a trash bin, but finding none, he simply held his hand out in front of her mouth.

“Huh?” Song Nianchu stared at him in confusion.

“Just spit it out here,” he urged.

“On… your hand? Aren’t you disgusted?” she mumbled, her mouth still full.

“It’s fine. I’ll wash it later. Just spit it out,” he insisted.

But Song Nianchu still refused to spit into his hand. Instead, she took out the potato and sweet potato from the lunchbox and spat the eggshell into it.

After all, the lunchbox would need washing anyway—no harm done.

Seeing her action, Mu Shi’an slowly withdrew his hand, though his expression darkened slightly.

“What’s wrong? It can’t be because I didn’t spit into your hand, can it?” Song Nianchu caught the fleeting emotion in Mu Shi’an’s eyes.

“No,” Mu Shi’an shook his head.

He was just annoyed at himself for not even being able to fry an egg properly.

Seeing his expression, Song Nianchu crooked a finger at him.

Mu Shi’an leaned in slightly, but she suddenly tilted her head up and pecked him lightly on the lips.

Mu Shi’an’s pupils instantly dilated, and he froze in place, staring at her in stunned bewilderment.

Song Nianchu flashed him a radiant smile. “That’s your reward for bringing me food.”

It took Mu Shi’an a moment to snap out of it. Flustered, he glanced around to make sure no one had noticed before straightening up awkwardly, clearing his throat behind his hand.

“This kind of thing… save it for when we’re at home,” he muttered, his voice low.

“There’s no one here,” Song Nianchu said dismissively.

Honestly, seeing that mix of shock, helplessness, and shyness on Mu Shi’an’s handsome face put her in an exceptionally good mood.

“You really aren’t afraid of anything,” Mu Shi’an sighed, looking at her with resignation.

Maybe it was because she was so strong—different from other girls.

Direct, passionate, unrestrained.

Like a flame, effortlessly setting fire to everyone around her.

“Why should I be afraid? The whole village knows you’re mine.” Song Nianchu finished the entire egg, though she did crunch on a few shell fragments.

At least the sweet potatoes and potatoes were properly cooked, and she made sure to praise Mu Shi’an for them—which only made him more embarrassed, since Mu Yongnian had been the one to boil them.

“What time will you be back tonight? I’ll leave the light on for you,” Mu Shi’an said as he packed up the lunchbox.

“Not sure yet. Probably late, so just go to bed after your bath,” Song Nianchu replied, thinking gloomily about their slow progress.

“Alright.” Mu Shi’an nodded and left with the lunchbox.

When the two stepped out of the room, the others stole glances at them from the corners of their eyes.

Fortunately, Mu Shi’an always kept up a cold, unreadable front in public. He gave a brief nod to everyone before walking away.

Song Nianchu, meanwhile, threw herself back into work.

“Chu, a man as good-looking as yours—is he just as impressive at night?” Hua sidled up to Song Nianchu and whispered.

Cough—

Song Nianchu nearly choked on her own saliva, gaping at Hua in shock.

Was this really the same Hua she knew?

Since when did she say such brazen things?

“I’ve heard pretty ones aren’t much use where it counts. How’s yours holding up?” Hua continued obliviously, completely unaware of how scandalous her questions were.

Song Nianchu: “…”

“Hua, some things are better left unsaid,” she reminded her.

“What does that mean?” Hua blinked in confusion.

Song Nianchu: “…”

Right. She’d forgotten—most of Qinghe Fishing Village’s residents were illiterate.

“Never mind. Just don’t go prying into other people’s private affairs,” Song Nianchu said sternly.

“What’s wrong with asking around? We’re not strangers. I just wanted to prepare a gift for your child,” Hua said without a hint of embarrassment, having already given birth to two children herself.

“It’s too early for that! Let’s get back to work—unless you want to spend the night here?” Song Nianchu quickly deflected, feeling flustered by the topic.

She used to think she was quite bold, but now she realized—compared to others, she was practically an amateur!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep