The Capitalist’s Spoiled Young Master? Perfect to Take Home as a Husband Chapter 95

In the kitchen, Mu Shi'an stood in a panic, holding a spatula, keeping a ter's distance from the stove. He even spread his arms protectively in front of Mu Haoxuan and Mu Yongnian.

anwhile, flas roared fiercely from the wok on the stove.

"Ah-Chu, stay back! There's a fire!" Mu Shi'an called out urgently as soon as he saw Song Nianchu.

But Song Nianchu didn’t seem the least bit frightened. She quickly grabbed the lid from the counter and slamd it over the blazing wok.

A mont later, the flas gradually died down. Song Nianchu then opened the kitchen window to let the smoke escape.

"Oh, right—cutting off the oxygen. Why didn’t I think of that?" Mu Shi'an muttered to himself, watching her actions.

"Didn’t I say I’d be back to cook today? Why did you try to take over again?" Song Nianchu finally turned to him after handling the situation.

"Big Sis, Eldest Brother said you were tired from work and that it’s too much for you to cook for us every day. But then he set the wok on fire! I told him not to ss with it, but he wouldn’t listen!" Mu Haoxuan looked up solemnly, tattling with all the gravity of a child.

"Oh? Then from now on, we’ll revoke his right to stir-fry in this house!" Song Nianchu bent slightly to et Mu Haoxuan’s gaze.

"Right! No more cooking for him. We almost lost the house today!" Mu Haoxuan nodded emphatically.

Mu Shi'an’s expression stiffened awkwardly. He hadn’t expected the oil to burst into flas the mont he poured it in.

He’d followed the exact steps he’d seen Song Nianchu use countless tis.

"Alright, all of you, step aside. I’ll handle the cooking." Song Nianchu didn’t scold him—she knew he’d only ant to help.

Having caused trouble, Mu Shi'an didn’t argue and prepared to take the kids to tend the fire instead.

But Song Nianchu suddenly held out her hand to him. Mu Shi'an blinked in confusion.

"The spatula, please." She sighed.

"Oh." Only then did he return it.

As Song Nianchu cooked, Mu Shi'an stole glances at her. Washing, chopping, pouring oil, heating it, tossing ingredients—every movent was swift and effortless, even carrying a hint of leisure.

"Eldest Brother, sotis the gap between people really is just… huge," Mu Haoxuan whispered beside him.

Mu Shi'an: "……"

"……"

"Alright, dinner’s ready." In no ti, Song Nianchu whipped up three dishes and called them to the table.

The three filed in obediently.

Perhaps haunted by his near-disaster, Mu Shi'an stayed unusually quiet throughout the al.

After dinner, Song Nianchu went to bathe first while Mu Shi'an cleaned the kitchen.

She waited in their room for what felt like ages before he finally returned, freshly showered, water still dripping from his hair.

"Why didn’t you dry your hair?" She set aside the notebook she’d been holding.

"It’s fine, it’ll dry soon." He casually pushed back his damp bangs, exposing his forehead entirely.

For most n, this style would be a disaster—but on Mu Shi'an, it only accentuated his sharp, handso features, lending an unexpectedly striking intensity to his gaze.

Song Nianchu found herself montarily stunned.

"I’m sorry," Mu Shi'an said as he sat beside her.

"Hmm?" She was still distracted by his appearance.

"About almost burning down the kitchen…" he reminded her.

"Oh, that? It’s nothing. That little fire wouldn’t have done much damage." She shook off her daze.

"From now on, I’ll stick to rice and dishes. Cooking’s beyond ." He’d officially surrendered to the culinary arts.

"Works for ." She quite enjoyed cooking anyway.

"Then… shall we rest?" Only when he saw she wasn’t upset did Mu Shi'an relax slightly.

"Mm." Song Nianchu scooted aside.

He climbed into bed, leaning over to extinguish the kerosene lamp once she’d settled in.

Darkness enveloped the room, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

Just as Song Nianchu closed her eyes, a large hand slid around her waist.

Her eyes flew open—Mu Shi'an had shifted close without her noticing.

Was he… planning a pre-sleep workout?

Rembering Sister Ahua’s advice, Song Nianchu almost told him not to push himself, that recovery mattered most. But fearing she’d wound his pride, she swallowed the words.

It’ll be over in a minute. Just close your eyes and endure.

But this ti, she was wrong. The books had never warned her how vastly different a man’s first and second performances could be.

After so initial clumsiness, Mu Shi'an moved like a fish returning to the ocean—effortless, relentless.

She felt like a boat caught in stormy waves, tossed helplessly by his rhythm.

When she could bear no more, she begged tearfully for rcy.

Yet the usually gentle Mu Shi'an only grew fiercer, his restraint shattering completely…

By the end, Song Nianchu wasn’t sure whether she’d passed out from exhaustion or pleasure.

---

The next morning, sunlight stread too brightly into the room when she awoke.

Dazed, she tried to sit up—only to wince as soreness flared in her lower back and thighs.

mories of last night flooded back.

Who said Mu Shi'an was all looks and no skill?!

He was too skilled!

She’d tried to crawl away at one point, only for him to drag her back by the ankle.

Absolute beast!

"Awake?" The man in question walked in just as she was silently fuming.

The sight of him made her legs feel weak. Instinctively, she yanked the blanket higher.

Ahem.

Mu Shi'an’s expression was equally awkward. Last night had been the first ti in his twenty-so years he’d truly lost control.

The more Song Nianchu pleaded through tears, the less he could hold back.

"I kept breakfast warm for you in the kitchen. I’ll bring it over." Eager to appease her accusing stare, he hurried to serve her.

"Go on!" Though annoyed by his beastly behavior, she wasn’t about to starve herself.

"Right away." He left to fetch the al—steaming egg custard and a bowl of millet porridge.

Perhaps drained from last night’s exertions, Song Nianchu finished everything and still felt hungry.

"Want more? There’s extra porridge." Mu Shi'an seed to read her thoughts.

She opened her mouth to answer—then froze at the sound of hired hands outside.

Alard, she looked up at him.

"What ti is it?"