Chapter 226: The Space That Fits

*Runze’s POV*

I come downstairs twenty minutes later than I planned, which is entirely Bael’s fault.

He had decided, while I was trying to put on my coat, that the collar needed adjusting. Then the coat itself needed reconsidering because the weather report said it would be cooler by midday. Then he wanted to know if I had eaten enough at breakfast, which I had, whether I had taken my supplements, which I also had, and whether Liang Feng knew the specific route because some of the roads near the second district had ongoing construction.

I had stood there in the middle of our room and let him fuss over every single detail, because arguing would have taken twice as long.

The sitting room is peaceful when I pass through it. Ling Yue is tucked into the corner of the sofa with his legs folded under him, holding a cup of tea with both hands and staring out the window toward the garden.

He turns his head when he hears my footsteps.

"Heading out now?" he asks.

"In a moment," I say, stopping near the sofa. "Liang Feng is waiting outside."

Ling Yue sets his cup down on the saucer, his face relaxing into a calm expression. "Take your time. Don’t worry about me."

"The eastern garden is quiet if you want some air later," I mention softly. "It stays shaded until afternoon."

Ling Yue looks at me for a beat, a faint, genuine warmth touching his eyes. "Go handle your business, Runze."

I offer him a small nod and head toward the doorway.

Bael is right beside me, slipping his dark overcoat over his tailored suit, looking like a man ready for a corporate board meeting who still found time to be meticulous about my morning.

I pick up my leather bag from the console table near the front doors, and together we step out onto the porch.

Down at the edge of the driveway, two cars are idling—Bael’s sedan, and the SUV Liang Feng has prepared for me parked right behind it. Liang Feng stands by the open passenger door, posture straight.

Bael walks down the stone steps with me toward the vehicles. Before I can reach the SUV, his hand curves firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

He doesn’t say a word. He pulls me gently against his chest, his palm coming up to cradle the back of my neck, his fingers resting warm against my skin. He leans down and presses his lips to mine, a deep, slow kiss that lingers in the cool air, firm and unhurried until my breath catches against his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb skims once across my cheek bone, his dark eyes searching my face.

"Call me when you finish," he says softly.

"I’ll message you when I’m on my way back," I reply.

His eyes narrow slightly at my vague answer, but he doesn’t push. He gives my neck one last reassuring squeeze before letting go and turning toward his own car, where his driver is holding the door.

I step into the back of the SUV. Through the tinted window, I watch Bael’s sedan pull down the driveway first, turning left at the gates toward the financial district. Liang Feng turns right, heading toward the outer districts.

Bael going toward his world. Me going toward building mine.

I open my notebook across my lap, reviewing the six saved addresses listed in the order I’ve decided to inspect them. Light quality. Floor plan functionality. Ceiling height. Whether the space actually works in person or merely photographs well for real estate listings.

Most importantly: whether a dedicated model-making workshop could fit without compromising the drafting space.

On paper, all six could work. In reality, most of them won’t.

My phone buzzes against the seat.

Bael: *Roadwork on the inner beltway near Yicheng district. Have Liang Feng take the alternate route.*

I stare at the screen for a moment. I haven’t even told Bael which district I’m inspecting today.

I look up at the rearview mirror. "Did he text you about the beltway traffic?"

"Yes, Young Master," Liang Feng says smoothly, with the serene calm of a man who has long since made his peace with his employer. "Three minutes ago."

I place my phone face-down on the leather seat, trying not to smile.

***

The first property, located in the Qianhe district, is a disappointment within five minutes.

The listing photos showed bright, wide windows, but standing in the room at mid-morning, I realize the east-facing angle means the whole space will be in deep shadow by early afternoon. For an architectural firm where evaluating material samples needs consistent daylight, it won’t work.

The second property has the open floor plan I wanted, but the building itself is much busier than advertised. The shared floor is noisy, the elevators are constantly backed up with foot traffic from neighboring offices, and the acoustics inside the unit carry every sound from the hallway. It lacks the quiet, focused atmosphere a design studio needs.

The third property looks good until I walk the space with a measuring tape. The ceiling height in the listing included the drop ceiling space, leaving the actual clear height much lower than expected. Hanging lighting rigs or moving large architectural models around would feel tight and claustrophobic.

"Three down," I say as Liang Feng opens the car door for me on the street.

"Yes sir. Three remaining," he replies smoothly.

We keep driving.

The fourth property sits in a quieter section of the Yicheng district. The building itself is unremarkable, but the street is calm, accessible, and close to public transit. The representative showing the unit, a woman in her fifties, greets me with a single handshake and leads me inside without a loud sales pitch.

She opens the doors to the main space, and I stop in the doorway.

The ceiling runs much higher than the listing photos suggested. Along the entire left wall, a continuous run of wide windows faces north—the exact orientation that delivers clear, even, indirect light throughout the entire day without the harsh angles of direct sun. Not dramatic light. Working light.

I walk in slowly, my shoes echoing against the floor.

Standing inside, I realize the online photos had vastly undersold it. The workspace could run along the northern wall under the glass, the physical model-making area could sit comfortably in the open corner where the light is most consistent. The client presentation space is already partially separated by an existing partition.

It isn’t flawless... the second room off the main hall has slightly awkward dimensions, and I’d need to inspect the ventilation setup, but standing in the center of the room, I can actually think clearly.

I turn to the agent. "Please email me the lease terms and utility details by this evening."

She nods quickly. "Of course, Mr. Runze. I’ll send the full package to your email."

I take one last look at those northern windows before stepping out.

Liang Feng is waiting just outside in the hallway near the elevators. As soon as I step out of the suite, he falls into step half a pace behind me, accompanying me down to the lobby and opening the rear door of the SUV the moment we reach the curb.

I get in, leaning back against the leather seat as Liang Feng rounds the car and takes the wheel.

We pull into the afternoon traffic. I pull up my messages and find Bael’s name.

*I’m through.*

The reply comes back almost instantly: *Where are you?*

*Just leaving the Yicheng district,* I text back.

A few seconds pass before his next message pops up: *I’m leaving the office now. See you at home.*

I glance at the time on my phone screen. It isn’t even four o’clock. Bael routinely works past six or seven, yet he’s clearing his desk before late afternoon just because I said I was through.

A small smile touches my lips.

*You’re leaving early?*

*I’m done for the day,* he replies cleanly. Then, after a brief pause: *Did you find what you were looking for?*

I stare at his message for a moment. He doesn’t press for details, doesn’t ask for addresses, and doesn’t try to manage what I was doing. He simply asks the one question that matters.

*Yes,* I type. *I did.*

*Good,* Bael replies. *Don’t let Liang Feng drive too fast.*

I put my phone away in my bag, leaning back into the headrest as the afternoon sun washes through the windows.

A quiet sense of relief settles over my chest. I had spent the entire morning wondering if I would actually find something functional today, but seeing that room made every requirement fall right into place.

That space in Yicheng... with its northern windows, its high ceilings, and the open floor waiting for my drafting tables... is going to be real.

It will have my name on the door.

Just mine.