Chapter 300: A World of Her Own

Runze’s POV

The first thing Siying does when we settle into the Glass Tea Library is pull at the edge of Bael’s grey sweater.

She stands on her tiptoes beside his chair, her small fingers clutching the soft knit fabric near his waist. Her small shoes press against the smooth concrete floor, making tiny sounds every time she shifts her weight. She reaches up, her eyes wide as she taps her fingers against his belt buckle.

“Ying-er,” Bael says, catching her small hand before she can tug at his sweater a second time. “What are you doing?”

She looks up at him, completely unbothered by his firm tone, and reaches for his sleeve instead.

“Mine,” she announces, her voice high and sure of itself.

“Your sweater?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the leather daybed with my sketchbook resting on my lap.

She shakes her head, pointing her index finger straight at his chest. “Baba.”

Bael looks down at her hand, then glances over at me across the small space. “Apparently, I belong to her today.”

“You have for a long time,” I tell him, leaning back against the cushions as the trees outside move softly against the sky. “You are only noticing it now.”

He gives me a look, though there is no real edge behind it. Siying has already lost interest in his clothes and is currently trying to pull herself onto his lap. Bael reaches down instantly, catching her under her arms to lift her onto his knee. She holds a small yellow rubber ring she brought up from the main house, immediately pressing it against his chest as if checking to see if it will stick there.

I watch them for a long moment, letting my pencil rest against the paper. The glass walls surrounding us keep out the cool breeze sweeping off the slope, making the library feel completely separate from the rest of the estate below. Months ago, when the contractors were still pouring the foundation, this room was just smooth stone and cold glass panels. Now, seeing Siying’s bright red blocks resting on the reading table and her favorite soft bear sitting on the shelf next to Bael’s reports, the space feels thoroughly lived in.

“She said four words together earlier,” I say, keeping my voice soft so I don’t disrupt her focus. “When Xiao Mei brought the fruit plate up the stone path.”

Bael adjusts his grip around her body as she leans back against his shoulder. “What did she say?”

“She pointed at the apples and said, ‘I want red one!'” I smile, setting the pencil down in the crease of the book. “No babbling. Just a clear sentence.”

Bael looks down at her face. Siying has abandoned the rubber ring on the floor and is now trying to climb onto the lower edge of the table, her small knees pressing against Bael’s thigh. “She gives orders very easily now.”

“She gets that from you,” I reply.

Siying turns around on his lap, pointing her finger toward the glass wall where a blue bird has landed on a pine branch outside. “Bird,” she says, though the word comes out a little unevenly. “Bird fly!”

“It might fly soon,” I tell her.

She nods her head so hard her fine hair bounces against her cheeks, keeping her eyes fixed on the glass.

I pick up my sketchbook again, though my mind shifts away from the drawings. “I’ve been thinking about something for her schedule.”

Bael doesn’t look away from Siying immediately, his thumb smoothing over the fabric of her sleeve. “What kind of schedule?”

“An early-learning program,” I say, choosing my words with care. “Somewhere she can spend a few hours playing with other children her age, learn to share, and get used to being around people outside this house.”

Bael’s expression grows more serious, and his hand stills against Siying’s sleeve. I know how much her safety matters to him, so I am not surprised by his reaction, but I hope he will at least hear me out before dismissing the idea.

“She has everything she needs here,” Bael says firmly. “If she needs a teacher, we can bring one to the estate. If she needs activities, we can arrange them in the main hall.”

“I know we can,” I say, shifting on the leather cushion so I can face him properly. “And I am not saying we should stop teaching her at home. But she spends almost all of her time with us, Mrs. Wen, and the staff. Everyone here knows her so well that they anticipate what she wants before she even asks.”

“She is still learning to express what she needs,” Bael notes.

“That is part of it,” I tell him softly. “When she is around other children, she will have to learn how to play with them, not just with adults who let her win every time. She might have to wait her turn for a toy or figure out how to join a game. Those are things we cannot teach her in quite the same way when everyone around her is older.”

Bael turns his attention toward the glass wall, watching the inner paved road curving toward the main house below. “You know why I am careful about where she goes. If she attends a center, I can’t personally vet everyone who walks through those doors every day.”

“I understand that,” I say softly. “I am not asking you to send her somewhere without checking it properly. I wouldn’t agree to that either.”

Bael stays silent for a moment before looking back at me. “People know who she is. It would not take much for someone to notice which building she enters or what time she leaves.”

“I know,” I say, standing up from the daybed and walking across the floor to stop near his chair. I sit on the edge of the table in front of him, looking into his eyes. “I know you are trying to protect her. I just don’t want all her experiences to happen within the estate. I want her to meet other children, make friends, and learn how to get along with people who aren’t already part of our lives.”

Bael looks down at Siying, who is now trying to stack three wooden blocks on his knee. The top block wobbles and falls onto the floor with a soft click against the concrete. She lets out a small, annoyed sigh before reaching down to pick it up again.

“She is not even two years old,” Bael says, though the sharp edge in his voice has softened. “She has time.”

“I know she’s still little,” I say. “I’m not asking to send her away for the whole day. We could start with a few mornings a week and see how she settles in. If she enjoys being there, we can take it from there, and if she doesn’t, we’ll reconsider.”

Bael looks at me for a moment. “And her security?”

“We’ll make sure the place is suitable before we decide anything. Your team can check the arrangements, and we can work out the details together after we visit.” I pause, then add, “I just want us to give her the chance.”

Bael leans back against his chair, taking a slow breath as he considers the compromise.

“I want to inspect the facility myself,” he says finally, his voice firm. “Before any paperwork is signed.”

I feel the tightness in my chest ease up completely. I reach out and place my hand over his where it rests on his knee, feeling the familiar strength in his fingers.

“We can go together early next week,” I say softly. “Once Shen Rui clears your morning schedule.”

Bael looks up at me, his fingers turning over to catch mine, squeezing lightly. “You are very persistent when you decide on something.”

“I learned from watching you,” I reply, giving him a faint smile.

Siying lets out a loud babble, knocking her block tower over with a slap of her hand. “All gone!” she announces proudly, looking up at us with a wide grin. “Again! Again!”

Bael lets out a low laugh, the remaining tension leaving his face entirely. He leans down and taps her nose with one finger. “No more blocks for today. It is time to head down for dinner.”

“No,” she protests immediately, grabbing his thumb with both hands. “Play more.”

“Dinner first,” Bael says, lifting her against his chest as he stands up. He tucks her close against his side with one arm, using his free hand to pick up her yellow ring from the floor.

I gather my sketchbook from the daybed and move toward the entrance. Outside, the evening air is cool against the hills, but inside the library, everything feels settled and clear.

“Xiao Mei mentioned Mrs. Wen wanted us down early,” I say as we step toward the door. “She wants to make sure Siying eats before her bath.”

Bael carries Siying across the room, stopping beside me at the threshold. Siying rests her head against his shoulder, one small hand clutching the neckline of his sweater.

“Let’s go down,” Bael says softly, holding the glass door open for us as we step out into the evening air together.