Chapter 216: The Things We Forgot

*Runze’s POV*

The study door closes behind Grandmother with a soft click.

Mrs. Wen sets the tea tray on the desk while I quickly gather the scattered drafts and move my laptop aside to make room.

The light scent of jasmine fills the air.

"You should have sent someone to call us," I say softly.

Grandmother waves away the suggestion with a subtle gesture as Ling Yue quietly stands, brings a chair over from the reading nook for her, and returns to his spot near the window.

"If I waited for the two of you, I would still be waiting next month," Grandmother says.

Something in her tone immediately puts me on alert.

Beside me, Bael finally sets his tablet aside.

Mrs. Wen finishes arranging the cups before stepping back with her hands folded neatly in front of her.

The room settles into silence.

Grandmother lifts her teacup, taking a slow, measured sip.

"I’ve been very patient."

I exchange a quick glance with Bael.

"...Patient about what, Grandmother?" I ask.

Her eyes move slowly between the two of us.

"The child."

I blink. "The child?"

"I’ve been waiting for the two of you to begin preparing," Grandmother says, setting her cup back onto the saucer with a soft clink. "I assumed you would eventually discuss where the nursery will be."

I stare at her. "...A what?"

Her eyes narrow slightly. "A nursery. You have discussed that, haven’t you?"

"I assumed the baby would stay in our room," I say simply.

"Obviously," Bael adds, his voice entirely matter-of-fact.

I immediately nod. "Exactly."

Grandmother looks at us as if we have both lost our minds. "In your room?"

"Why would a newborn need another room?" I ask, genuinely puzzled. "They’re tiny."

"And they require constant supervision," Bael points out, leaning back in his chair with absolute authority. "Putting an infant fifty meters down the hallway in a separate wing makes no logical sense."

I nod again, looking back at Grandmother. "Precisely."

Across the room, Ling Yue abruptly turns his face toward the window, pressing his lips tightly together as his shoulders shake in silent laughter.

Mrs. Wen doesn’t even try to hide it—a quiet, amused laugh escapes her, and she quickly covers her mouth.

Even Grandmother looks momentarily speechless, staring at the two of us like she can’t quite process the united front of pure cluelessness sitting across from her.

"You two..." Grandmother says slowly, rubbing the space between her eyebrows, "one of you is a trained architect and the other heads a multinational empire, yet you expect to keep a child, their supplies, and their entire care setup inside a single bedroom?"

I hesitate. "...We have a very large bedroom."

"It has a sitting area," Bael adds.

Mrs. Wen steps forward, her eyes crinkling with warmth as she takes mercy on us.

"Master Bael, Young Master Runze," Mrs. Wen says gently. "It is not just about where the baby sleeps at night. A newborn requires a changing station, sterilization equipment, rows of clothing, bulk supplies, and developmental toys. If you keep all of that in your master bedroom, your private room will turn into a storage warehouse."

I open my mouth, then close it.

"Furthermore," Mrs. Wen continues, "by four to six months, infants begin transitioning to their own sleeping space. If you wait until the child is born to start designing and constructing a nursery, you will be painting walls, moving heavy furniture, and drilling fixtures while trying to care for a baby who needs peace and quiet."

Bael sits completely still.

I stare at my desk.

The logic is so straightforward, so obvious, that there is literally zero counter-argument.

"Oh," I murmur.

"Oh," Bael echoes softly beside me.

Ling Yue lets out a breathy laugh from the corner. "You two sounded so confident a second ago."

"Quiet, Ling Yue," Bael says, without any real edge.

Grandmother sets her hands over her lap, her expression shifting from disbelief to dry satisfaction. "Now that we have established that basic reality... what about the rest?"

"The rest?" I ask carefully.

"Names," Grandmother states. "Clothing. A wardrobe."

"We haven’t... bought anything yet," I say carefully, trying to salvage what’s left of our dignity. "We haven’t even looked at gender-specific things."

"The Wuchen family does not care for such trivialities," Grandmother says, cutting through my excuse with smooth, aristocratic dismissal. "A child is a child. An heir is an heir. Gender carries no weight in our lineage, nor do we ruin the event by prying beforehand. A Wuchen is a Wuchen."

I keep my mouth shut and nod. I already know the tradition. It simply never occurred to me that preparing for both possibilities meant preparing for everything.

"Which means," Grandmother continues, her gaze shifting to Bael, "you do not wait for a sign from the sky. You prepare for a child. You select names for both possibilities. You acquire wardrobes fitting for both. What goes unused today remains in the estate archives for tomorrow. It is hardly complex."

Bael shifts slightly, his voice returning to its usual flat, unbothered tone. "Preparing double for an unknown seems inefficient."

Grandmother turns her gaze toward him—a look so sharp it could cut through stone.

"Inefficient?" she repeats softly, a faint, dangerous edge of amusement in her voice. "You manage billions in capital, Bael. Do not sit at your desk and speak to me of ’efficiency’ when you haven’t even cleared a single room for your own heir."

Bael quietly looks back down at his tablet, offering zero resistance.

I bite the inside of my cheek, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing. Seeing Bael—who terrifies half the business world—get completely dismantled by Grandmother in two sentences is a sight I will never tire of.

"I expect this estate to look like a child is actually arriving," Grandmother says, rising from her chair with effortless, regal grace, her presence filling the room without making a sound. "Tomorrow, the two of you will settle on a wing. And by the end of the week, I want a list of names on my table."

"Yes, Grandmother," I say obediently.

"Understood," Bael replies.

She gives us a single, satisfied nod, then turns smoothly toward the door.

Mrs. Wen picks up the tea tray, smiling warmly at me before following Grandmother toward the exit.

As the door clicks shut behind them, the study falls quiet again.

I lean back against my support cushion, letting out a long breath, my hand resting over my lower stomach. A faint, soft flutter responds from within, as if the baby is enjoying the conversation.

I turn my head to look at Bael.

He is staring blankly at his tablet, though he hasn’t swiped the screen in two minutes.

"A nursery," I say softly, resting my chin in my hand as I look over at him.

Bael shifts his gaze to me, his face impassive, though a slight tightness remains around his jaw. "We’ll look at the empty rooms upstairs tomorrow."

"So you don’t have it all figured out yet?" I ask, a faint smile touching my lips.

Bael gives me a long look, his eyes softening just a fraction. "I’m leaving that to you."

A soft laugh escapes me as I turn back to my laptop to save my work.

Names and a nursery.

It seems my plans for tomorrow just got a little busier.