Chapter 199: Safe Haven

*Runze’s POV*

My fingers remain wrapped around Ling Yue’s arm the entire drive back, resting against the cool fabric of Bael’s coat.

Ling Yue hasn’t spoken a single word since we left the pier.

Up front, Bael sits in the passenger seat, one elbow resting casually against the door armrest as he works through emails on his tablet. His posture is calm, imposing, and completely unbothered, acting as an invisible shield between us and the outside world.

Every now and then, his eyes flick briefly to the rearview mirror—not in an intrusive way, but with a quiet, sharp vigilance, checking that everything in the back remains undisturbed.

Beside me, Ling Yue stares blankly out the tinted window.

Bael’s dark coat rests over his shoulders, its broad structure completely swallowing his slender frame and making him look painfully small. His hands remain clasped tightly in his lap, fingers intertwined so fiercely that his knuckles are stark white.

He looks tired. Not the ordinary exhaustion that a good night’s sleep can wash away, but the bone-deep, hollow kind that settles into your soul when you’ve been bracing for impact for too long.

"...Are you cold?" I ask softly, keeping my voice low.

Ling Yue blinks, his dark eyelashes fluttering as though my voice has pulled him back from somewhere miles away.

"...No."

The answer comes automatically—an instinctive lie. The way his hand unconsciously reaches up to pull the lapels tighter around his throat immediately gives him away.

I don’t call him out on it. I know what it feels like to want to hide inside something bigger than yourself.

Instead, I lean back into the soft leather seat, resting a gentle hand over my bump. My thoughts drift back to the bustling streets outside and the countless restaurants we’ve passed along the way.

At first, my instinct was to pull over at the nearest diner the second I saw how pale he was. But the more I look at him, the more my stomach churns with unease.

If Jin Hao really is quietly combing the city for him, setting foot in another public place is the worst thing we could do. Too many glass windows. Too many lingering eyes. Too many chances for a photo to end up in the wrong hands. Ling Yue is in no condition to duck behind a mask or pretend he is fine under public scrutiny.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open a quick chat with Mrs. Wen. I send off a brief message letting her know we are heading straight back, asking her to have the kitchen prepare a full spread of comforting dishes for a guest.

I slide my phone back into my pocket, leaning my head against the headrest as the car moves quietly along the private, secondary routes Bael had already instructed the driver to take before we even reached the vehicle.

***

The big iron gates of the Wuchen Estate slowly part, welcoming us into the long, tree-lined driveway.

As the car pulls to a smooth stop beneath the grand entrance, Bael steps out first, rounding the car to hold the door for us. I step down into the cool afternoon air, with Ling Yue trailing cautiously behind me.

Standing near the main entrance is Mrs. Wen, dressed in her sharp head-housekeeper attire, flanked on both sides by several household staff members in neat aprons.

She’d clearly received my message. The moment our feet touch the pavement, she bows respectfully alongside the staff before a warm, familiar smile touches her face.

"Welcome home, Master Bael, Young Master."

Her calm gaze then shifts toward Ling Yue, who is stepping off the gravel with cautious, uncertain movements.

"Welcome to the estate, Sir," Mrs. Wen says smoothly, her tone polite, immaculate, and utterly devoid of intrusive curiosity.

Ling Yue hesitates for a beat, pulling Bael’s coat tighter around his shoulders before offering a quiet, polite nod.

"...Hello."

"Please come inside," Mrs. Wen adds gently, gesturing toward the open doors. "Lunch is already prepared."

The moment we cross the threshold, the rich, comforting aroma of home-cooked food washes over us.

The dining room table is laid out with a steaming spread: a fragrant pot of lotus root and pork rib soup, tender steamed sea bass drizzled with soy and ginger, glossy braised pork belly, garlicky gai lan, and bowls of steaming jasmine rice. It has been pulled together in a rush, yet every dish looks meticulous and inviting.

I gently catch Ling Yue’s wrist, guiding him toward one of the high-backed chairs.

"Sit down."

He doesn’t argue. He sits down almost mechanically, his movements heavy with fatigue.

Mrs. Wen immediately steps up beside him, her presence light and unobtrusive.

"I’ll serve you."

Before Ling Yue can even open his mouth to politely decline, a warm, fragrant bowl of rice is set directly in front of him, soft steam curling gently into the air.

"...Thank you," he mutters, his voice raspy from disuse.

Mrs. Wen silently sets a pair of chopsticks beside his hand with a gentle bow before stepping back to give us space.

Ling Yue stays focused on the steaming bowl in front of him, his head lowered as he quietly adjusts the coat over his shoulders, gathering the lapels closer to keep the draft out.

I am just about to pull out the chair beside him when a pair of familiar, warm arms slip smoothly around my waist from behind, holding me back. Before I can turn my head, Bael leans down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss against my temple.

"So clingy," I mutter quietly, leaning back into his chest for a brief second.

"You like it."

"...Maybe."

A quiet hum echoes in his chest, his lips curving slightly against my skin.

"I have to head back to the office."

"...Already?"

"I’ll try to come home early."

"Alright, don’t miss dinner."

His hand lingers over my waist for another heartbeat, his thumb lightly stroking through my shirt, before his eyes shift toward the dining table. Ling Yue happens to look up at that exact moment, his gaze briefly meeting Bael’s sharp grey eyes.

Bael gives him a single nod before looking back down at me.

"Rest after eating," He says, giving my waist one final, grounding squeeze. "I’ll see you tonight."

"Don’t push yourself too hard," I reply quietly as he releases me, turning to head back toward the front entrance.

Mrs. Wen picks up the serving spoon with a warm expression.

"Please, eat while it’s hot."

Ling Yue stares down at the feast spread before him, his fingers twitching against his knees.

"...I..."

"Eat first," I interrupt gently, pulling out my chair and sitting across from him.

When he looks up, I offer him a calm, reassuring smile. "You haven’t eaten all day. We can talk about everything else later."

"...Okay."

He picks up the chopsticks. His hand shakes slightly as he lifts the first bite of rice to his lips. It is slow, almost mechanical at first, as though his body is still trying to remember how to function.

I pretend not to pay close attention, wanting to give him space to breathe. Instead, I pick up my own utensils and reach for the platter in the center.

"You have to try the fish," I say casually, placing a tender piece onto his plate. "No restaurant in the city makes it quite like Mrs. Wen does."

Mrs. Wen lets out a quiet, fond laugh as she pours two glasses of warm tea.

"You’re far too generous, Young Master."

"I’m just honest," I smile, looking over at Ling Yue.

Ling Yue’s eyes flicker from his bowl to the piece of fish on his plate.

"...Really?"

"Really," I insist, nudging the platter a little closer to him.

He hesitates for a second, then carefully lifts the piece into his mouth. A moment passes before his expression subtly shifts, the tension in his jaw slackening just a fraction.

"...It’s good."

"I told you."

Mrs. Wen quietly steps forward, adding a spoonful of braised pork beside his rice.

"Try this one too," she says. "It’s very soft."

Ling Yue obeys without a word. Another bite follows. Then another.

As the warm food settles into his stomach, the wall he’d kept around himself all morning finally begins to crumble. Somewhere in the middle of our quiet chatter, without him even realizing it, his bowl becomes empty.

Mrs. Wen moves forward like a shadow, silently filling it with another steaming scoop of rice.

Ling Yue blinks down at the fresh bowl in utter confusion.

"...When did..."

"You’ve been eating," I say softly, unable to hold back a small, genuine smile.

He stares at the food, then looks at me. He doesn’t look alright... not even close... but for the first time since I’d found him at the aquarium, he looks safe.

After a few more quiet bites, Ling Yue sets his chopsticks down.

The gentle silence of the room settles over us again. His head remains lowered, his fingers tracing the ceramic edge of his teacup as if trying to find something to anchor himself to.

I watch him attentively, resisting the urge to push or pry into what brought him here. I reach across the table, my hand covering his cold fingers where they rest against his sleeve.

Ling Yue freezes for a second, but he doesn’t pull away. His hand remains beneath mine as he lowers his head a little further, trying to hide the sudden sheen of tears in his eyes.

"..."

"...Thank you," he breathes softly, his shoulders trembling once before he forces them still.

"For what?" I ask gently.

Another long silence stretches over the dining room, not a tense silence, but a deep, healing one.

Ling Yue swallows hard, his voice barely louder than a whisper against the quiet hum of the house.

"...For not asking."