Chapter 294 Stay

Runze’s POV

The silence in the nursery feels louder than the crash did.

I remain sitting on the edge of the padded mat, my back braced against the base of the low desk, Siying’s small body limp against my chest. Her thumb is tucked loosely into her mouth, her breathing settled into the deep, even rhythm of sleep.

Mrs. Wen returns from the hallway carrying a glass of water. She sets it on the corner of the low table and kneels beside me.

“Young Master, move to the chair,” she says gently. “Your back will ache if you sit on the floor like this.”

“I am fine here,” I tell her, my voice rough and thin.

She looks at me for a moment, then reaches out and smooths Siying’s blanket over her legs without arguing. Her hand settles briefly on my shoulder before she moves back to give me space.

My hand stays spread across Siying’s back, feeling the small rise and fall of her ribs. Every time I close my eyes, I hear the sharp snap of the plastic casing against the floor. I look at the bare corner of the desk where the black cord used to hang.

Thirty seconds. That was all it took.

Footsteps echo down the stone corridor outside. Fast, clean, deliberate.

Bael is home early.

Mrs. Wen straightens and steps back toward the entrance. Bael appears in the doorway, his charcoal jacket over his left arm, his necktie loosened at the collar. He stops just past the threshold and takes in the room in a single sweep.

He sees the empty desk. He sees Mrs. Wen’s serious expression. Then his eyes find me on the floor holding Siying, and his brows pull together as he drops his jacket onto the armchair and crosses the floor in long, fast strides.

“What happened?” he asks Mrs. Wen directly, his tone sharp with immediate focus as he drops to his knees beside me. “Is she alright?”

“The young miss is unharmed, Master Bael,” Mrs. Wen answers quickly, her voice calm and steady. “The laptop fell from the desk, but it did not touch her. She was only frightened by the sound.”

Bael doesn’t rely on words alone. His hands move to Siying immediately, checking her arms, her wrists, lifting her chin gently to inspect her neck and forehead, running his palms over her skin with the quiet efficiency of someone who needs to confirm safety for himself. Siying lets out a small grunt at being disturbed, shifting her face deeper into the neckline of my top, and only when Bael has checked every inch of her does he let out a slow breath.

He turns his full attention to me. His eyes narrow as he takes in my pale skin and the faint red marks around my eyes.

“…Runze,” he says, his voice dropping low.

I keep my gaze fixed on his collar, unable to look him in the eyes. “…I went to get her teething gel. The charger cord was hanging off the edge of the desk. I was gone for thirty seconds. She must have pulled it to stand up. The whole machine came down.”

My throat tightens, the words coming out jagged.

“It landed right next to her, Bael. Right next to her head.”

The nursery goes quiet.

He looks at the bare floor where the machine had fallen, then looks back at my face. I wait for the reprimand, for the quiet judgment of my carelessness.

Instead, Bael reaches out with both hands, his palms gently cupping my cheeks. His thumbs move over my skin, softly tracing the dry tear stains beneath my eyes.

“You cried a lot,” Bael murmurs, his voice breaking out of its usual stern composure, filled with a deep, aching tenderness. “If I had known, I would have come home earlier.”

“I left her alone,” I whisper, my eyes stinging again.

“…Runze, look at me.”

I lift my eyes to meet his.

“She is safe,” Bael says, his thumbs continuing their slow, comforting strokes along my jaw line. “You checked her. Mrs. Wen checked her. I have checked her too, and she is asleep in your arms right now without a mark on her.”

He leans in, pressing his lips firmly against my temple, his breath warm against my skin while his arms wrap around both of us.

“I’ve left things within her reach too,” Bael tells me softly. “We are both still learning how fast she moves. This was an accident, Runze. You cannot carry the guilt for something that didn’t happen.”

He shifts his hand down, lacing his fingers tightly through mine and pressing them against his chest.

“You and Siying mean everything to me,” Bael says softly. “I know you’re frightened, Runze. You don’t have to pretend otherwise with me.”

A tear slips past my eyelashes before I can stop it. Bael catches it with his thumb, then leans forward and presses another long, firm kiss against my forehead, holding his lips there until the tight tremor in my shoulders begins to ease.

A quiet rustle of fabric comes from the corridor.

Grandmother walks into the nursery, wearing a soft grey silk tunic. Her hand rests lightly against the doorframe for support as she steps over the threshold, taking deliberate care with her footing.

“Mrs. Wen told me what happened when I woke from my nap,” Grandmother remarks, her voice dry and even as her gaze sweeps over the room.”I heard the baby tried her hand at electrical engineering.”

Bael doesn’t rise from the floor, but he keeps one hand resting against my back. “She pulled the laptop off the desk by its cable.”

“Babies are drawn to anything they are not supposed to touch,” Grandmother says, stepping closer and looking down at Siying’s sleeping face. “When your father was nine months old, he pulled an antique vase off a side table in the west wing. It shattered into pieces right beside his feet. He didn’t have a single scratch on him either.”

Bael looks up at her. “That doesn’t make it acceptable.”

“It makes it normal,” Grandmother corrects him smoothly. She looks at me, her expression softening by a fraction. “You look worse than the child does, Runze.”

I don’t answer.

She gives a single nod. “Clear those loose lines out before she wakes up again. I will not have my afternoon tea interrupted by falling machinery.”

She turns and walks out, her steps slow and measured as she moves down the corridor toward her wing.

The moment she leaves, a young maid steps into the nursery. Bael stands up, walks over to the low desk, and unplugs the remaining power strip from the wall outlet. He gathers the loose cords, hands them directly to the maid, and gives her a short instruction to take them down to the study.

“I’ll have every cord in this room moved out,” Bael says, coming back to sit beside me on the mat. “The desk goes too.”

He drops back down beside me, pressing his shoulder firmly against mine.

Mrs. Wen appears at the door long enough to set a tray of warm soup and tea on the side table before retreating. The food sits there untouched. I know I should eat something, but my stomach feels too tight to manage it.

Bael shifts beside me.

“Bael?”

He turns immediately, his eyes fixing on mine. “Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

His expression softens when he hears the hesitation in my voice. He settles back down beside me without a second thought, his arm wrapping around my shoulder to draw me against his side.

“Nowhere,” he says softly. “I was going to bring the tray over. That’s all.”

I look down at Siying. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” His arm tightens around me, his other hand coming down to rest gently over the back of my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “If you want me to stay right here, I will.”

I don’t say anything, but I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder and letting out the long, shuddering breath I have been holding for hours.

Bael reaches his free hand over to rest his palm lightly against Siying’s back, feeling the slow, even rise and fall of her ribs while she sleeps between us. Her cheeks are pink against my top, completely untroubled by the scare from earlier.

“Your hands are still cold,” Bael murmurs, his thumb making slow circles over the back of mine.

I press my cheek closer against his shoulder, letting his familiar presence wrap around me. He stays beside me on the floor, his shoulder solid against mine, his grip on my fingers steady. Slowly, the tight knot inside my chest begins to dissolve under the weight of his arm.

The light outside the nursery window shifts gradually from afternoon to dusk. The food on the tray grows cold. Siying sleeps through all of it.

At some point, the exhaustion catches up with me. I try to fight it, not wanting to drop off while holding Siying, but Bael notices the moment my eyelids droop. He shifts carefully, taking most of her weight into his own broad arm while keeping her supported against my chest, pulling both of us close against him.

“Sleep,” Bael whispers against my hair, his voice low. “I have both of you.”

I try to tell him I can stay awake, but the words fail to form.

My eyes close. His hand moves in slow lines over my back, and the last thing I feel before sleep pulls me under is the press of his lips against my head and the firm grip of his fingers still laced through mine.

Even in my sleep, I don’t let go of his hand.