Chapter 301: Out of the Estate

Runze’s POV

Shen Rui opens the car door for us before the driver even finishes setting the brake.

The black car sits in the drop-off loop of the preliminary center. The building is a simple, two-story structure tucked away in the south district, set back from the main avenue behind a stone wall covered in green ivy. Beyond the wall, the faint sound of laughter and little voices drifts over from the yard.

Bael steps out first. His eyes briefly check the entry gate and the small parking area before he steps back toward the door to hand me out. Shen Rui stands two paces away, holding his tablet.

“Our driver will keep the car parked near the front loop until you finish the walk-through,” Shen Rui says quietly.

Bael gives a short nod. “Have the secondary car wait around the corner.”

“Understood, Mr. Wuchen.”

I step onto the pavement, holding Siying against my chest. She wears a small pale blue coat over her dress, her canvas shoes dangling near my hips. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the new environment, her little hand clutching the neck of my shirt. She doesn’t pull away, but her head turns constantly, watching two mothers walk their children toward the front entrance.

“Cars,” she says, her voice high and clear.

“Yes, lots of cars,” I say, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “We are going to look inside the big house now.”

Bael steps up beside us, his hand settling comfortably over my waist as we walk toward the main entrance together. The front glass doors open into a bright reception hall decorated with framed paper drawings and soft yellow lighting.

The director of the center, a soft-spoken woman in her late fifties with silver hair pinned into a neat bun, steps forward to greet us. She wears a simple grey jacket over a navy dress, her expression warm.

“Mr. Wuchen, Mr. Runze,” she says, offering a gentle bow. “I am Director Ye. Welcome to the center.”

“Director Ye,” Bael replies, his voice polite and measured. “Thank you for taking the time to show us around this morning.”

“It is our pleasure,” Director Ye says, gesturing down the wide hallway. “Your assistant mentioned you wanted to see the morning play areas and go over our safety routines. We can walk through the corridor while the toddlers are in their morning activity.”

We walk along the wide hallway. The resin floor is completely clean, lined with low cubbies where small coats and backpacks hang from smooth plastic pegs. Each cubby has a colorful picture label above it—apples, stars, and little bears—so the children can recognize their own spots before they learn to read their printed names.

Siying points at a row of tiny yellow boots sitting on the lower shelf. “Little shoes!” she exclaims, turning her head to look at Bael. “Baba, look! Little shoes!”

Bael looks down at the boots, a faint smile touching his lips before he turns back to Director Ye. “What is the teacher ratio for the morning groups?”

“One lead teacher and two assistants for every six toddlers,” Director Ye answers as we walk. “Our staff is fully certified, and the outer gates remain locked once the morning drop-off window closes. Every entry during class hours is logged at the front reception.”

Bael stops near a wide observation window built into the wall of the main toddler room.

I step closer to the glass with Siying so she can see inside.

The room is large and filled with natural light. Eight toddlers are spread across soft foam mats. Near the window, two kids are rolling big plastic trucks across the floor, making low rumbling sounds with their lips. In the center, a little girl sits surrounded by giant soft stacking rings, while an assistant in a blue apron sits nearby reading a picture book with two others, turning the large cardboard pages slowly.

Siying leans forward in my arms, her mouth opening in excitement as she stares at the kids. Her eyes light up, her small hands tapping against my shoulder.

“Look!” she whispers loudly, her little shoes kicking against my coat. “Papa, look! Play toys!”

“You want to go inside?” I ask softly, bringing my face near hers.

She nods quickly, pointing one finger at the play table in the corner. “Go in! Play truck!”

I look at Bael. He stands beside us, his hand still resting at the back of my waist. He isn’t looking at the security cameras or the window frame anymore, he is looking at Siying’s face, seeing her bright excitement and how eagerly she wants to join the children.

“She can step inside for a few minutes if you’d like,” Director Ye offers gently. “Teacher Fu is guiding free play right now. You both can stay right by the doorway.”

Bael looks at me, silent for a moment as he considers it. “What do you think?” he asks softly.

“Let’s let her try,” I say.

Director Ye taps her keycard against the reader, and the door opens into the room. The air inside smells faintly of paper pulp, crayons, and fresh laundry.

Teacher Fu, a young woman with her hair tied in a loose ponytail, looks up from the mat and gives us a quiet, welcoming wave without making a big fuss.

I set Siying down on her feet near the threshold. She stands still for a second, her little fingers holding onto the side of my trousers. She looks at the soft play mats, then up at Bael, and then back at me, as if double-checking that she truly has permission to walk over.

“Go ahead, Ying-er,” I say, crouching down beside her. “You can play.”

She lets go of my leg. Step by step, her small shoes tapping against the floor, she walks over toward a low circular table where a boy and a girl are playing with colorful smooth plastic rings. She stops a few feet away, watching them stack a blue ring onto a central peg.

The little girl looks up, holding a red ring, and stares at Siying with open curiosity.

Siying doesn’t run up or grab anything. She reaches into the tray on the edge of the table, picks up a big yellow ring, and holds it out toward the table with a proud smile.

“Ta-da!” she says happily, showing it to them.

The little boy reaches over and taps the yellow ring, letting out a happy babble. Siying sits right down on the soft floor mat beside them, placing her ring on the peg with careful attention. When the stack wobbles and falls over, all three of them burst into high-pitched giggles, reaching into the tray to start again.

Standing by the door, Bael watches her, his hand resting on my shoulder. His gaze stays fixed on her hands moving across the mat. As Siying laughs at the tumbling ring stack without looking back for reassurance even once, Bael takes a slow breath, his posture relaxing completely.

He glances down at me. “She isn’t worried at all.”

“Not even a little,” I smile, standing up beside him. “It’s like she was ready for this.”

Bael turns to Shen Rui, who is waiting out in the hall. “We’ll proceed with the registration. Two mornings a week.” He looks back at me to confirm. “Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Tuesdays and Thursdays are perfect,” I agree.

Shen Rui nods, writing a quick note on his screen. “I will prepare the paperwork with Director Ye right away.”

On the drive back to the estate, the car moves smoothly along the quiet avenue.

Siying rests across my lap, her head cradled against my thigh. She holds a small paper windmill Teacher Fu gave her, her fingers loosely curled around the wooden stick. The excitement of running around the playroom, taking off her coat, and meeting new kids has caught up with her, and her small chest rises and falls in quiet sleep.

Bael sits beside me, his suit jacket unbuttoned. He looks out the side window at the passing greenery, his face calm. The initial worry that lined his forehead when we left the estate this morning has completely vanished.

I reach over and slide my fingers into his hand where it rests on his knee. He turns his palm over instantly, lacing his fingers through mine.

“She didn’t look back once after she sat on that mat,” Bael says softly, his thumb smoothing over the back of my hand.

I smile, looking down at Siying’s sleeping face. “She was having too much fun with the ring stacker.”

Bael looks over at me, a soft, genuine smile touching his lips. “She is growing up fast, Runze.”

“She is,” I say, leaning my head against his shoulder as the car turns up the quiet hill toward the estate gates. “And we’ll be right here with her every step of the way.”

Bael squeezes my hand, resting his chin lightly against my hair as we drive home.