The Capitalist’s Spoiled Young Master? Perfect to Take Home as a Husband Chapter 13

"This wasn't bought, this is..." Manager Li paused mid-sentence and suddenly fell silent.

He began carefully examining the remaining two jars of fish pieces on the side.

The fish pieces packed in glass jars looked no different from canned fish, yet they tasted far more delicious.

Manager Li seed to have thought of sothing, his face lighting up with delight as he opened another jar and poured its contents onto a plate.

"Co here, all of you, and have a taste," Manager Li called out.

"Really? We can try it?" The young kitchen assistant who had spoken earlier had already been swallowing his saliva while watching. Now, hearing Manager Li's invitation, he eagerly stepped forward.

"Of course, no joke—co and try it," Manager Li repeated.

Unable to resist any longer, the assistant picked up a pair of chopsticks and plucked a piece into his mouth.

The crispy, savory flavor instantly captivated his taste buds, and he instinctively reached for another piece—only for Manager Li to tap the back of his hand with chopsticks.

"No greed—one piece each!"

The assistant quickly withdrew his chopsticks, though his gaze remained fixed on the plate of fragrant, crispy fish.

One by one, the others in the kitchen ca forward to taste it. Almost everyone who tried it couldn’t help but crave a second bite.

But the jar didn’t contain much, and sharing even one piece per person was already stretching it.

"Well?" Manager Li waited until everyone had eaten before asking.

"Manager Li, did you hire a new chef for this?" soone asked nervously.

"Why ask so much? Just answer directly," Manager Li replied, his tone tinged with impatience.

"The thod for this crispy fish is unlike anything I’ve encountered before, but the at is tender, and the seasonings complent each other perfectly. It’s truly a delicacy," an older chef assessed honestly.

"Do you think this dish would sell well in our restaurant?" Manager Li’s eyes glead brighter as he saw everyone’s satisfaction.

"If this chef is willing to join our restaurant, sales won’t be a problem," the chef said, though a trace of lancholy crossed his face.

He must have assud his job was now at risk.

Lately, custors had been complaining about the lack of variety and poor taste, but he had always cooked the sa way for years.

He had thought working at a state-run restaurant was a stable livelihood—after all, no matter how much people disliked the food, the place wouldn’t shut down.

But who would’ve guessed Manager Li would bring in an outsider?

Sighing deeply, the middle-aged man wondered how he would break the news to his wife.

Hearing this, Manager Li couldn’t sit still any longer. He opened the last jar, arranging the fish pieces ticulously on a plate.

"Take this out and distribute it to the custors. Tell them it’s a new dish we’re introducing," Manager Li announced loudly.

"Got it!" The eager assistant hurried forward, carrying the plate out of the kitchen.

Manager Li followed with his hands behind his back, carefully observing the custors’ reactions.

Nearly every guest who tasted it asked if they could order a full portion.

Manager Li’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling with satisfaction.

...

By the ti Song Nianchu returned to Qinghe Fishing Village, the sky had darkened completely.

Instead of heading straight ho, she stopped by Wu Zhenggui’s place to hand over the earnings from her trip.

Wu Zhenggui counted the money in his hands, his brow furrowing tightly.

"The money is dwindling day by day. If we don’t set sail soon, our village won’t even be able to afford food."

"Uncle Zhenggui, don’t worry. Just hold on for another half month, and it’ll be our village’s turn to fish," Song Nianchu reassured.

"Hmm." Wu Zhenggui nodded, but the deep furrow between his brows remained.

Even if they could sail out smoothly, there was no guarantee of a good catch. If the nets ca up empty, things would only get worse.

Song Nianchu watched as Wu Zhenggui counted the sa handful of bills over and over, as if repeating the action could sohow make the money multiply.

She parted her lips, then closed them again without saying a word, turning away to leave.

When she returned ho and pushed open the door, a dim yellow glow from a kerosene lamp greeted her.

Mu Shi'an was writing sothing under the light. Hearing the noise, he imdiately looked up.

"You’re back. You haven’t eaten yet, have you? I saved so food for you." He set down what he was doing and hurried to the kitchen.

Song Nianchu didn’t refuse, sitting at the table as her gaze inadvertently landed on the sheet of paper.

It seed to have so kind of machine sketched on it, but before she could take a closer look, Mu Shi'an returned with the al—a bowl of plain rice and half a portion of the crispy fish she had made that morning.

"Why is there so much left?" she asked, surprised.

The portion she’d left was barely enough for Mu Shi'an alone, and she knew he had even taken so to his family. So why was half still here?

"I… don’t really like vegetables," he muttered, his eyes darting away.

Song Nianchu sighed deeply, fixing him with a piercing stare.

"You do realize you’re terrible at lying, right?"

Mu Shi'an froze for a mont, standing there at a loss for words.

"I saw you carrying a bowl to your parents’ place this morning when I left," she pressed.

"I didn’t take anything else from the house—just my share of the food. You told to eat before you left, so I thought… I could decide what to do with it," he explained hastily.

But his whole deanor was uneasy. He had always been upright, never taking advantage of others. Yet, when it ca to giving his parents part of his al, he knew he was in the wrong.

After all, everything in this house belonged to Song Nianchu.

"I’m sorry. It won’t happen again," he said, his voice rough with guilt.

"Do you really think I brought this up because I’m angry you gave food to your parents?" Song Nianchu sighed.

"Isn’t that why?" Mu Shi'an countered.

"Of course not! What I care about is you!" she emphasized, each word deliberate.

A flicker of confusion crossed Mu Shi'an’s face, as if he didn’t quite grasp her aning.

"The portion I left was only enough for you. You gave yours to your parents and saved half for . So tell , what did you eat today?" she demanded.

"I…" He faltered, unable to answer.

"Mu Shi'an, you’re my man now. I promised you’d never go hungry, yet you’ve been sneaking around like this. If you starve yourself sick—or worse—what happens to ? I’ll be a widow, and then everyone will say I’m not just strong but also cursed to lose my husband," she said coldly.

Mu Shi'an never expected that this was what Song Nianchu was concerned about. He wanted to explain, but having never interacted much with girls, he stumbled over his words for a long mont before finally blurting out,

"You won't beco a widow."