Chapter 203: Dinner

*Runze’s POV*

"Young Master?"

Mrs. Wen’s gentle voice filters through the study door, followed immediately by the quiet click of the latch.

She steps inside carrying a small woven tray, a steaming fresh teapot resting in the center. Her warm expression softens into a faint frown the moment her eyes land on the desk, noticing the original teapot and two cups sitting untouched beside my laptop.

"You’ve both barely had a drop," she says, setting her tray down and swapping the cold teapot for the fresh, steaming one. She gives me a pointed look as she pours a warm serving into my cup. "You should drink while you work, Young Master. Stress and an empty stomach won’t do you any good, especially now."

I offer her a weak smile, accepting the warm porcelain.

Her gaze shifts toward Ling Yue. "And that goes for you as well, sir."

Ling Yue sits up a little straighter under her careful scrutiny, taking his own cup with a quiet, polite nod.

"We will, Mrs. Wen."

Satisfied after seeing both of us take a sip, she gathers the cold set onto her tray.

"Dinner will be ready shortly downstairs. Madam Wuchen is already resting in the main hall."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wen."

She offers a slight bow before quietly stepping out, letting the door click shut behind her.

The room falls silent once more. I turn back to the monitor, staring at the blank Word document sitting adjacent to my inbox. The blue cursor blinks at me expectantly.

I place my hands on the keys and begin typing out a draft:

*Dear Sir/Madam,*

*Please accept my sincere apologies for my delayed response...*

I stop. Read it over. Delete one sentence. Rewrite another.

No. That sounds too formal. I edit it again. Then again. Finally, I lean back against the leather armchair, staring at the refined text.

"...This will have to do."

I read the message one last time before quietly copying the entire thing:

*Dear Sir/Madam,

Thank you for reaching out, and please accept my apologies for the delayed response. Due to an unexpected medical situation, I was unable to monitor my correspondence over the past several weeks.

I greatly appreciate your interest in my work following the DingShan presentation, as well as your patience during this time. If the opportunity is still available, I would appreciate the chance to reconnect and discuss it further at your convenience.

Thank you again for your understanding.

Sincerely,

Runze*

I highlight the text and begin the slow, methodical process of taking my life back.

For messages addressed to specific individuals, I change the greeting to their names. For general firm inboxes, I leave the formal opening.

The body remains mostly the same, but the closing changes depending on why they wrote.

*Thank you for your kind words.*

*I’d be delighted to discuss the opportunity further.*

*I’d be honored to accept the invitation if it is still available.*

Reply. Paste. Adjust. Send.

Reply. Paste. Adjust. Send.

By the time I reach the very last thread... the light outside the high arched windows has turned into a deep, honeyed gold.

I send the final reply.

The inbox finally looks different. No bold messages, no unread notifications. Only answered conversations.

I quietly close the browser window. Beside me, Ling Yue finishes the last mouthful of tea from his fresh cup, placing it back onto the saucer with a soft *clink*. He hasn’t asked a single question about the contents of the messages.

Another knock interrupts the quiet. This time, it’s one of the younger household maids bowing from the threshold.

"Young Master. Dinner is ready. Madam Wuchen is waiting downstairs."

"I’ll be right there."

She bows politely and closes the door.

I remain seated for a few extra seconds, smoothing down my shirt over the slight swell of my bump. Ling Yue stands up first, stepping toward the door before turning to watch me.

"...How are you feeling?" he asks softly.

I think about answering honestly. Instead... I force a small, tight line onto my lips.

"I’ll survive."

He studies my face for another long second before giving a quiet, single nod.

"Let’s go."

***

The dining room glows warmly beneath the crystal chandelier when we arrive downstairs. The familiar scent of freshly prepared food lingers comfortably in the air, rich enough to make my stomach stir despite everything occupying my mind.

Grandmother Wuchen is already seated at the head of the table, speaking quietly with Mrs. Wen while one of the younger maids finishes arranging the last few dishes.

She looks up the moment she hears our footsteps.

"You’re late."

"I’m sorry, Grandmother."

"Hm."

Her gaze moves past me without lingering and settles squarely on Ling Yue.

He immediately steps forward. Lowering himself into a respectful bow, he says calmly,

"My name is Ling Yue. Thank you for allowing me to stay in your home, Madam Wuchen."

Grandmother studies him in silence for several long moments.

"Ling..."

Her eyes narrow ever so slightly.

"Shoucheng’s grandson."

Ling Yue blinks in surprise.

"...Yes."

"I see."

Another pause follows.

"He was an honorable man."

Nothing more.

She lifts her teacup with practiced elegance and takes a slow sip before saying,

"Sit."

"Thank you."

Mrs. Wen hides a smile as Ling Yue takes his seat across from me before quietly directing the maids to begin serving everyone.

Porcelain dishes are passed around the table. Chopsticks tap softly against serving bowls. Someone thanks Mrs. Wen for the soup.

I hear all of it.

I simply don’t absorb any of it.

My thoughts are still upstairs, still sitting in front of fifty-eight emails.

I lower my eyes to the bowl in front of me. The rice grows colder by the second.

I haven’t touched it.

Then, the low rumble of a car rolls into the front courtyard.

Mrs. Wen glances toward the entrance almost instinctively, her expression softening.

"Master Bael is back."

A minute later, the doors open and Bael walks in, his midnight-blue suit still immaculate despite the long workday.

"Grandmother."

"You returned before dinner ended."

"I said I would."

He nods once, then his gaze settles on me. Everything else in the room seems to disappear.

He crosses the room without even glancing at Ling Yue, his hand cupping the side of my neck as his long fingers slide into my hair.

"There’s my husband." He bends down and kisses my cheek.

...

I don’t lean into him, not this time.

His thumb pauses almost imperceptibly against my skin. His grey eyes search mine.

"...Runze?"

I force my lips upward. "You’re home."

His brows knit together almost immediately.

"What’s wrong?"

I shake my head.

"Nothing."

"You don’t look alright."

"I’m alright."

"Are you feeling sick again?"

"No."

Before he can ask anything else, I reach up almost instinctively. My fingers catch his wrist, and I pull his hand down into my lap, wrapping both of mine around it, holding it tighter than I realize.

His gaze follows the movement. He looks down at our joined hands before lifting his eyes back to my face. Something inside his expression tightens.

He knows.

He can always tell when something is wrong.

But he doesn’t ask again. Not here, not in front of everyone.

Instead, he quietly takes the chair beside me. Almost immediately, his free hand slips beneath my back and settles against my waist.

The unexpected touch makes me flinch, just slightly.

His hand stills instantly against my shirt. "...Did I press too hard?"

"It’s alright."

He resumes rubbing slow, comforting circles against my side.

The familiarity of it hurts more than it should.

Because only a few hours ago, I discovered he’d quietly cut me off from the very career he’d helped me get qualifications for.

Across the table, Ling Yue notices. He lowers his eyes again, pretending he hadn’t.

Grandmother notices too, and gives the smallest shake of her head.

"You two don’t seem aware there are other people at this table."

There’s no real annoyance in her voice. If anything, she sounds faintly amused.

Only then does Bael finally look across the table toward Ling Yue. Recognition flashes across his face.

"I didn’t realise you were here."

Ling Yue nods politely. "...Thank you for helping me, Mr. Bael."

Bael inclines his head once. "Any friend of Runze’s is welcome here."

Then, his attention returns to me naturally.

Mrs. Wen begins placing more dishes on the table.

Before anyone else can reach them, Bael starts filling my plate.

"Eat the fish."

A piece lands neatly on my rice.

"The spinach."

Another serving.

"This one’s good."

I quietly move half of it back onto his plate.

"You should eat too."

"I will."

"..."

He glances down at the growing pile I’ve created before finally giving in with a small smile.

"...Alright."

He actually starts eating.

Mrs. Wen watches the exchange with satisfaction. Grandmother says nothing, she’s seen this dance countless times before.

Dinner continues peacefully.

At first, I barely touch the food.

Every time I glance at Bael... I remember the emails, the unanswered proposals, the invitations, the opportunities that had waited patiently while I sat believing I’d been forgotten by everyone.

My stomach twists.

Part of me wants to ask him right now.

*Why?*

*Why didn’t you tell me?*

*Why decide for me?*

The questions crowd the back of my throat, but Grandmother is here, Mrs. Wen is here, the staff are still moving around the table, Ling Yue is here.

This isn’t the place.

So I swallow every one of them along with another bite of rice.

Strangely, after the first few mouthfuls... my appetite suddenly returns.

Without realizing it, I end up eating everything on my plate.

Mrs. Wen smiles with obvious relief, and the tension in Bael’s shoulders eases just a bit.

He doesn’t comment on it, but the circles his thumb keeps tracing against my waist become noticeably more relaxed.

I don’t think he even realizes he’s still doing it.

By the time dinner ends, Ling Yue walks beside me toward the main hallway. Before turning toward the guest wing, he places a hand lightly on my shoulder.

Leaning down just enough that only I can hear, he whispers,

"...Don’t stay angry too long."

I look at him, and he offers a small, tired smile.

"He loves you."

Then he turns and walks toward the guest wing without another word.

I watch him disappear down the hallway. My fingers unconsciously tighten at my sides.

I know he loves me, that’s what makes this hurt.

Behind me, Bael’s voice is gentle.

"Let’s go."

I turn to look at him. At the concern he hasn’t tried to hide all evening. At the same gentle expression I’ve always found impossible to doubt.

"...Okay."

Without saying anything else, he reaches for my hand.

For one brief second, I hesitate. Then I place my hand in his.

His fingers close around mine, warm and familiar, as though nothing in the world has changed.

Together...

We walk upstairs toward our room.