Mu Deyi didn’t answer Song Nianchu’s question; instead, he just stared at her for a long moment.

When his gaze fell on the dark circles under her eyes, his brow furrowed involuntarily.

“Why come to work if you’re not feeling well? Your health is your greatest asset. Don’t wear yourself down over other things,” Mu Deyi said seriously.

Judging by his expression, one might have thought he was scolding her.

“Is Accountant Mu actually concerned about me?” Song Nianchu, who always knew how to catch the point, asked with a smirk.

Mu Deyi hadn’t expected her to say that; his expression suddenly tensed, and the hands he had clasped behind his back tightened slightly.

But even so, his words remained as cold and firm as ever.

“I’m worried that if you fall ill, there won’t be anyone to run this studio. It’ll just fall apart, and so will my work.”

“Alright then, for the sake of Accountant Mu’s work, I’ll take good care of myself,” Song Nianchu replied, seeing through him without making a fuss, her eyes sparkling with a playful smile.

Hearing this, Mu Deyi cleared his throat awkwardly, his gaze flickering nervously.

“As long as you understand that. Besides, the most important quality for someone in charge is strategic thinking. You need to learn how to read people and delegate. Anyone who insists on doing everything themselves is simply foolish.”

“Accountant Mu, that’s unfair! Didn’t I go through all that trouble to recruit you as our village accountant?” Song Nianchu teased.

“You!” Seeing that she still had the energy to joke around, Mu Deyi felt like he was looking for trouble.

And with that spirited attitude, she hardly seemed sick at all. He shook his hand dismissively and turned back to his office.

Watching Mu Deyi’s somewhat lean figure retreat, Song Nianchu’s smile deepened.

No wonder she liked teasing him—his stubborn, tough exterior just begged to be challenged.

But what Mu Deyi said was spot on. The number of orders had increased significantly, and it was definitely time to bring more people on board.

Before, business hadn’t picked up enough to justify it, so they hadn’t hired anyone. Now, the timing was right.

Song Nianchu lingered at the village office for a while. Everything was running smoothly, and there was nothing that required her intervention. So, after telling Aunt Wu, she went to find Wu Zhenggui.

At this hour, everyone was still working—women weaving fishing nets in the square, men heading up the mountain to chop bamboo.

Song Nianchu circled the square and found Wu Zhenggui just coming down from the mountain.

“Uncle Zhenggui,” she called out quickly as she approached.

“Ah Chu, what brings you here?” Wu Zhenggui immediately set down the bamboo he was carrying on his shoulder.

“I have something I want to discuss with you,” Song Nianchu said.

“Let’s go somewhere shady to talk,” Wu Zhenggui suggested, brushing the dust off his clothes as he led her to the other side.

Mu Jingmei, who was nearby in the square, noticed this scene and unconsciously tightened her grip on the task at hand.

Song Nianchu was always running around the village, never seeming to do any real work.

Yet the villagers trusted her so much—it really was a lucky life!

The more Mu Jingmei thought about it, the angrier she became, and her hands grew clumsy, tangling the fishing line into knots.

“Jingmei, stop it! The line’s all tangled up,” Mu’s mother quickly warned.

Mu Jingmei looked at the mess of fishing line in her hands and angrily threw it aside.

“Mom, how much longer do we have to keep weaving these fishing nets here?”

“Don’t let the scorekeeper see, or they’ll deduct your work points again,” Mu’s mother hurriedly picked up the tangled line, carefully untangled it, and placed it back into Mu Jingmei’s arms.

“Work points, work points. We’re here weaving until our fingers bleed, and we barely earn any points. But look at them—they work so easily, can move around freely, and still get the most points!” Mu Jingmei glanced pointedly in the direction of Song Nianchu.

Mu’s mother followed her gaze and frowned slightly.

“They get the most points because she leads the villagers in making canned goods. Your father also got a full work-point job thanks to her.”

Mu Deyi’s health had never been good. The accounting job was light work and indoors. Although the bookkeeping was a bit tedious, it was something he was very familiar with.

In the past couple of days, Mu Deyi’s spirits had clearly improved, and Mu’s mother felt there was hope for the future.

“Mom, she only gave you a little favor, and you’re so grateful to her. But do you know? My brother invented a machine that automatically weaves nets, yet he didn’t give it to us—instead, he gave it to the villagers!” Mu Jingmei said, her frustration boiling over.

“What did you say? Your brother invented what?” Mu’s mother didn’t catch it at first.

“An automatic net-weaving machine. Lots of families in the village have gotten one. Haven’t you noticed fewer people coming to the square to weave nets now?” Mu Jingmei said firmly.

“How do you know this?” Mu’s mother frowned.

“This isn’t a secret in the village. You’re the only one who doesn’t know,” Mu Jingmei scoffed.

Mu’s mother glanced down at the fishing net in her hands. Her hands, which had hardly done any work before, were now rough and darkened.

If Mu Shi’an really had invented a net-weaving machine, why hadn’t he brought one to her right away?

“Mom, my brother’s been brainwashed by Song Nianchu. Giving Dad an accounting job might just be a way to exploit him. Don’t be so grateful,” Mu Jingmei said, her voice full of resentment.

Mu’s mother lowered her head and didn’t respond.

After venting, Mu Jingmei noticed the scorekeeper walking toward them and quickly bowed her head to work.

Mu’s mother, who had been lost in thought, was spotted by the scorekeeper and had a work point deducted.

“…”

Unaware of this, Song Nianchu was discussing personnel selection with Mu Deyi.

“So, you want to find some strong men to help with buying and delivering goods?” Wu Zhenggui understood Song Nianchu’s plan.

“Yes, but the buyers have to be people we trust. After all, the daily cash flow is quite large,” Song Nianchu replied, not mentioning that the amount involved might grow even bigger.

“Do you have someone in mind?” Wu Zhenggui now felt that when Song Nianchu asked this question, she probably already had an answer in her heart.

“I’d like to ask Brother Gangzi to take charge of the purchasing,” Song Nianchu said with a smile.

“You want Brother Gangzi to be in charge?” Wu Zhenggui was surprised.

Because Gangzi is his eldest son, who is also Hua’s husband—his full name is Wu Gang.

“Yes, I remember Brother Gangzi went to school for a few years, so he should be pretty good with numbers. Besides, he’s reliable and strong. Having him handle the purchasing would be the perfect fit,” Song Nianchu said firmly.

Wu Zhenggui didn’t immediately agree. Instead, he took out his pipe tucked at his waist and took two puffs.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep