Chapter 284

"Emily..." Martha River tugged at Emily Johnson's sleeve, gesturing hesitantly toward the main house.

Mary Stone lowered her voice. "Country matchmaking works this way. If they like each other, they discuss the dowry right away."

Emily blinked. That was fast.

"They're already planning the wedding?"

"Yes, but the earliest would be after harvest season." Mary counted on her fingers. "Making furniture takes time, and preparing the dowry does too."

Just then, Daniel River returned with his potential bride. The girl wore a floral blouse, her cheeks flushed pink as she stole glances at Daniel.

Lunch was lavish—braised pork, stewed chicken, and stir-fried vegetables covered the table. Emily, as an accompanying guest, ate slowly while making polite conversation.

After seeing off the visitors, Emily had barely stepped into her own yard when two little figures came barreling toward her.

"Mommy!" David Stone looked up at her. "Is Uncle Daniel's bride pretty?"

Tommy tugged at her clothes. "Daddy said there was good food today, but we didn't get to go."

Michael Stone emerged from the house, taking her bag. "How did it go?"

"Your cousin seems quite taken with her," Emily wiped her brow. "But they settled the dowry and wedding gifts on the spot. Isn't that rushing things?"

Michael chuckled. "Country matchmaking is straightforward. Once they're interested, they get right to the point."

Emily suddenly realized. "So I was just there for show?"

"What show?" Michael frowned at the unfamiliar term.

"I mean..." Emily pouted. "When I married you, I didn't ask for a dowry. My family even paid extra."

Michael's eyes darkened as he leaned close to her ear. "I'll make it up to you tonight, sweetheart."

"You!" Emily's ears burned as she pushed him away. "Dream on!"

Since the college entrance exams ended, the man had been insatiable. She'd been using the summer heat as an excuse to fend him off.

"David, Tommy, nap time." Michael's stern tone sent the boys scurrying inside. They knew that voice meant their parents wanted privacy.

Emily hurried into the house. The August sun was relentless, her back soaked with sweat. Without air conditioning—or even an electric fan, a luxury in these times—she relied on mosquito coils, floral water, and discreet insecticide sprays.

"Let me fan you." Michael followed, picking up a palm-leaf fan.

Emily didn't refuse, changing into her homemade cotton short-sleeve—much cooler than the polyester blends from the Supply & Market.

"Tell me..." She turned suddenly. "Did I sell myself too cheap back then?"

Michael paused mid-motion before kissing her forehead. "I was the persistent one. I had my eye on you from the day you arrived in the village."

Emily recalled the original host's memories. If not for that local troublemaker's attempted assault and Michael's timely rescue, she might never have agreed to marry him.

"Silver-tongued devil," she chided, but couldn't suppress a smile.