Chapter 221: Filling the Empty Spaces

*Runze’s POV*

By the time the car pulls into the estate drive, the cumulative weight of the day has settled into my bones.

I sit back against the leather seat for a moment after the engine shuts off, staring through the tinted window with my hand resting flat over my stomach.

"I think your child is trying to consume me from the inside out," I murmur softly.

Beside me, Bael unfastens my seatbelt with a smooth, unhurried motion. "Dr. Xi said you would need to eat more."

"More is an understatement," I mutter, leaning my head back against the headrest. "I’m starving."

Before Bael can answer, a tall, disciplined figure approaches the car, stepping ahead of the estate guards to open the passenger door himself.

For a brief second, I just stare.

The door opens, and the cool afternoon air sweeps into the quiet car.

"Young Master."

Liang Feng stands beside the vehicle, holding the door with one gloved hand while his other remains held neatly behind his back.

He looks significantly better than he did in that hospital room weeks ago—his color has returned, and the dark stitches near his hairline are gone, leaving behind only a faint, thin mark almost completely hidden under his brown hair.

Still, knowing him as well as I do, I can tell the recovery took its toll. His posture is as rigid as ever, but his frame is slightly leaner under his suit.

"You’re back," I say quietly.

A familiar, gentle warmth touches his face. "Yes, Young Master."

I study him for a moment before stepping out onto the driveway. He looks well rested, far better than he did before taking the leave I insisted he take after his discharge.

"How was the time off?" I ask, giving him a quick look over.

"Sufficient, Young Master," Liang Feng replies, bowing his head slightly before turning smoothly to face Bael. "Mr. Bael."

Bael gives him a concise nod. "Liang Feng. Good to have you back."

"Thank you, sir," Liang Feng says, stepping aside to give us room as Bael’s hand settles lightly against my back.

I look at Liang Feng, shaking my head slightly. "I hope you actually rested instead of pacing around waiting for my call."

"I followed all instructions, Young Master," Liang Feng answers seamlessly, a subtle glint of humor in his eyes. "Including the mandatory rest."

A small laugh escapes me, and a quiet wave of relief finally settles in my chest.

I take two steps toward the main entrance, but another sharp, hollow ache in my stomach stops me in my tracks. It isn’t pain, just a relentless, demanding hunger. I press my hand against my stomach again. "I need food. Immediately."

Bael’s hand remains firm against my waist as he guides me up the steps. "I messaged Mrs. Wen from the car to have something ready."

Before we even reach the front steps, the double doors swing open. Mrs. Wen stands in the entrance, a warm, welcoming smile on her face as she steps aside to usher us out of the cold.

"Young Master," she greets softly, though as her eyes take in my face, her smile turns into a look of quiet concern. "You look pale."

I stop near the threshold. "Is it that obvious?"

"Your appetite usually tells the truth before you do," she says, her tone full of gentle, maternal care. "There is ginseng chicken broth simmering in the kitchen, but I will bring out the dim sum platters first so you do not have to wait. Go sit down in the dining room, I’ll have the food out in a minute."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wen," I say, genuinely relieved. "That sounds perfect."

"It is proper care," Bael adds quietly from beside me, guiding me through the doors.

I step into the house, shedding my coat into Liang Feng’s waiting hands, only to stop dead in my tracks as I look toward the living room.

Someone is sprawled across the main sofa. One leg is draped lazily over the padded armrest, an open box of high-end imported cookies sits on the glass coffee table, and my best friend is glaring at the ceiling like a man who has been unjustly imprisoned.

"Well," Ling Yue says flatly without moving an inch.

I blink. "Well?"

He sits up slowly, swinging his leg off the armrest and pointing a long, accusing finger directly at my face.

"Nice of you to finally return home from your grand expedition."

I look at Bael, then back at Ling Yue. "...How long have you been lying there?"

"That is entirely beside the point," Ling Yue huffs, standing up and smoothing down his top. "The point is that I have been abandoned for an entire day. In a house where the staff treats feeding me like a full-time sport."

"You’ve been living here for less than a week," I remind him, stepping further into the room.

"And yet the neglect is palpable!" He gestures dramatically toward the coffee table. "Do you have any idea what Mrs. Wen did to me today? I waited for you at breakfast, but you were still asleep. So she made me eat your share! All of it. Then I retreated to the lounge, and she brought me steamed custard buns. I went to the library to read, and she tracked me down with sweet walnut porridge. I even tried to hide in my room for a quick recovery nap, and when I woke up, there was a tray of fresh baked pastries on my nightstand!"

I stare at him, trying very hard to hold back a laugh.

Then I look at his face and narrow my eyes. "...Did your cheeks get rounder?"

Ling Yue’s mouth falls open. "Excuse me?"

"No, seriously," I say, stepping closer and pointing at him. "Your face is definitely fuller than it was yesterday."

Ling Yue immediately slaps both hands over his cheeks, his eyes widening in utter horror. "My face is exactly the same! It’s the lighting in this room! Runze, take that back!"

Beside me, Bael clears his throat—a subtle, dry sound.

Behind us, Liang Feng quietly shifts his gaze toward the ceiling, his jaw set in a rigid line as he fights off a reaction.

"See?!" Ling Yue yelps, looking at them. "They’re trying not to laugh! This place is a trap—Mrs. Wen is trying to ruin my jawline!"

A genuine laugh finally bursts out of me, the lingering weight of the whole afternoon vanishing into thin air.

"Don’t worry," I tell him, walking past him toward the dining table as Mrs. Wen begins setting down a dizzying array of small dishes. "You won’t have to suffer alone. I am about to clear this entire table."

What follows over the next hour can only be described as a gentle, continuous intervention by Mrs. Wen.

Dr. Xi’s words about the baby’s growth phase prove entirely accurate. I lose count of how many times my bowl is filled with rich ginseng chicken broth, delicate steamed dumplings, glazed greens, and tender sliced meats.

Bael sits beside me, silently cutting portion sizes and placing them onto my plate, his face expressionless, though there is a faint, settled calm in his posture every time I finish a dish.

Across the table, Ling Yue watches me eat three bowls of rice with fascination.

"I withdraw my complaint," Ling Yue mutters, leaning his chin on his hands as he watches Mrs. Wen bring out yet another steaming basket. "You aren’t eating for two anymore. At this point, I’m convinced there are at least six people in there."

"If there are six, they all want beef," I say around a tender piece, not missing a beat. "Mind your own plate."

"I’m not judging," Ling Yue says, though he glances nervously at Mrs. Wen as she sets a plate of sweet sesame cakes in front of him. "I’m terrified. If you keep eating at this pace, Mr. Wuchen here is going to have to buy a farm."

"The estate’s supply chains are fully capable of handling the demand," Bael states calmly from beside me, placing another dumpling into my bowl.

"It was a figure of speech!" Ling Yue groans.

***

By late afternoon, the quiet rhythm of the house is interrupted by the sound of wheels on the gravel outside.

I am sitting on the sofa, holding a mug of warm water and feeling comfortably full for the first time in days, when the front doors open again.

Shen Rui steps inside holding a tablet, looking crisp in his suit.

Behind him, Liang Feng and two estate guards carry large garment racks wrapped in protective covers, along with neatly stacked luxury boxes.

Ling Yue freezes, a pastry halfway to his mouth. "Wait. What is all that?"

"Deliveries," I say.

"Deliveries of what?" Ling Yue asks, standing up to look toward the front entrance.

He steps closer, turning back to look at me with genuine curiosity. "Can I check?"

I nod. "Go ahead."

Ling Yue carefully lifts the edge of a protective cover, pulling out a tiny, cream-colored knitted onesie no bigger than his forearm.

He stares at it in disbelief, then looks at the stack of boxes being carried past him.

Slowly, his head turns back toward me. "Runze... why are there enough baby clothes in your hallway to dress an entire town?"

"My husband wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything," I shrug, taking a sip of water.

Bael pauses mid-motion as he sets his teacup down on the coffee table, his hand stilling for just a second at the words before he quietly resumes.

Ling Yue stares at me, then lets out a long, dramatic sigh. "Right. Of course. Grandmother had to scold you two for not having a single baby item, and now you go and buy out the whole store in one afternoon. Extreme as usual."

"It’s just thorough preparation," I say, a small smile touching my lips as I lean back against the cushions.

Ling Yue rolls his eyes, shaking his head at me with a dry grin. "Thorough? Runze, there’s preparation, and then there’s buying fifty boxes of clothes for a baby that fits in one arm."

"I see nothing wrong with it," I reply simply.

"Unbelievable," Ling Yue mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it as he watches another garment rack roll past toward the east wing stairs.

I lean back on the sofa, letting out a quiet breath as the lively atmosphere settles around the room.

Bael’s hand reaches out, gently guiding my head down until it rests against his shoulder, his thumb rubbing a slow, comforting circle through my hair.

Across the room, Liang Feng and Shen Rui calmly direct the staff as they head toward the stairs, while Ling Yue shakes his head and reaches for another pastry, complaining to Mrs. Wen about the ethics of infant fashion.

I rest my hand over my stomach, feeling the faint, gentle flutter against my palm.