The Capitalist’s Spoiled Young Master? Perfect to Take Home as a Husband Chapter 78

At first, Song Nianchu didn’t quite recognize the person standing there, but as she got closer, she realized it was Mu Deyi.

"Uncle? What are you doing here?" Song Nianchu quickened her pace to approach him.

Mu Deyi was already in a foul mood, and hearing Song Nianchu’s question only made his chest tighten with anger.

"Are you mocking ?" Mu Deyi gritted his teeth.

"Huh?" Song Nianchu was montarily confused.

"You’ve got so nerve, little girl!" Mu Deyi’s chest heaved as he turned to leave.

The commotion seed to have caught the attention of those inside the courtyard, and the gate swung open as Mu Shi'an stepped out.

Seeing Song Nianchu’s bewildered expression and Mu Deyi’s furious deanor, he asked in confusion,

"What’s going on with you two?"

Did they argue again?

"Ask her yourself!" Mu Deyi spat out the words before storming off.

"What happened?" Mu Shi'an turned to Song Nianchu, his puzzlent deepening.

It was rare to see his father this angry.

"I swear, I didn’t say anything to provoke him today. The mont I got back, I saw him standing outside our house. I just asked why he was here, and he accused of mocking him." Song Nianchu raised her hand as if to swear her innocence.

Mocking him?

Mu Shi'an lowered his gaze in thought, then suddenly rembered sothing and fixed his eyes on Song Nianchu.

"Did you not go to see my dad today?"

"Huh? No, why would I?" Song Nianchu blinked in confusion.

"Last night, didn’t you ask to talk to him about becoming your village’s accountant?" Mu Shi'an reminded her.

"Didn’t Uncle Zhengui go to him?" Song Nianchu asked.

The two stared at each other, and suddenly, realization dawned on Song Nianchu.

"Oh no! Uncle Zhengui must have thought I’d go talk to your dad, but neither of us ended up going!"

Mu Shi'an: "..."

Mu Shi'an looked at her, torn between amusent and exasperation.

"No wonder he was so mad at just now, saying I was mocking him. This is a huge misunderstanding." Song Nianchu frowned deeply.

"It’s fine. Put your things inside first, then I’ll go with you to talk to my dad again," Mu Shi'an reassured her.

"You don’t think he’ll change his mind, do you?" Song Nianchu asked tentatively.

Mu Shi'an wasn’t entirely sure either, but he didn’t voice his doubts.

"Let’s go explain first."

"Okay." Song Nianchu placed her basket in the kitchen before following Mu Shi'an to the Mu household.

It was just after work hours, and Mu Deyi had returned ho in a huff, running into Mu's mother and Mu Jingi at the doorstep.

"What’s wrong?" Mu's mother hurried forward, concerned at the sight of Mu Deyi’s expression.

"Nothing!" Mu Deyi couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d been "mocked" by a young girl, so he stord into the courtyard instead.

But the frustration lingered, and he grabbed a broom to sweep the yard aggressively.

Mu's mother hesitated, unsure whether to approach him while he was clearly upset.

"Mom, did brother make Dad angry?" Mu Jingi whispered.

"Your brother? I doubt it." Mu's mother frowned.

Mu Shi'an respected his father deeply—his unwavering care during Mu Deyi’s hospital stay was proof enough.

"Dad was in a good mood last night, but after brother visited, he’s like this today. And just now, Dad seed to co from brother’s place," Mu Jingi pointed out.

"Well..." Mu's mother wavered.

"Mom, if you don’t believe , ask Dad yourself," Mu Jingi urged gently.

"Dear, did you just go see Shi'an?" Mu's mother ventured.

The mont the words left her mouth, Mu Deyi stopped sweeping and snapped,

"Don’t ntion that brat again!"

"See? Dad really is mad at brother," Mu Jingi chid in smugly.

Before Mu's mother could press further, movent at the gate caught her attention.

Song Nianchu and Mu Shi'an had arrived.

"Mom," Mu Shi'an greeted.

"Brother, what did you do to make Dad this angry? Don’t you know his health hasn’t fully recovered?" Mu Jingi shot Mu Shi'an a gleeful look.

Their father always favored him—who would’ve thought he’d be the one to provoke such fury?

Before Mu Shi'an could respond, Song Nianchu shot Mu Jingi a cold glare.

The girl’s tone was downright infuriating.

Mu Jingi instinctively hid behind Mu's mother under Song Nianchu’s sharp gaze.

That woman was freakishly strong—one punch from her, and her frail fra wouldn’t survive.

Watching Mu Jingi cower, Song Nianchu scoffed inwardly.

So spineless, yet always stirring trouble.

She turned her attention back to Mu Deyi and approached him.

"Dad..." Song Nianchu tried to soften the mood.

"Don’t call that! I’m not your father!" Mu Deyi cut her off heatedly.

Song Nianchu rubbed her nose sheepishly—seems she’d only made things worse.

"Uncle, there’s been a misunderstanding today. I thought the village head would talk to you about the accountant position, but he assud I would. Neither of us ended up reaching out to you."

"We truly didn’t an to slight you. We genuinely want you for the role—why else would I have asked Shi'an to persuade you?"

"And I wasn’t slacking off either. I’ve been busy since morning—when you saw , I’d just returned from town. The mont I realized the misunderstanding, I rushed here without even eating." Song Nianchu spoke earnestly.

She had always valued capable people. In her past life, she’d once courted a technical expert by delivering breakfast to him for a month straight.

After winning him over, her company’s performance skyrocketed, setting industry benchmarks.

Rewards only ca after effort.

Mu Deyi’s expression flickered slightly at her words.

"Dad, Nianchu is telling the truth," Mu Shi'an added.

"Uncle, if you don’t believe , I’ll take you to our village head. He can vouch for ," Song Nianchu insisted firmly.

Mu Deyi studied her, skepticism still lingering.

"Uncle, think about it—if I were really mocking you, wouldn’t I be here gloating instead of apologizing?" Song Nianchu pressed on.

Finally, Mu Deyi’s expression softened a fraction.

"Look, I even brought my account books." Song Nianchu pulled out several crumpled sheets covered in dense numbers from her pocket.

Mu Deyi glanced at the papers and winced.

"You’re telling ... these are what?"