Chapter 267: SSS-Rank Mission

Runze’s POV

I stare at the mint-green baby bathtub resting on the marble counter of the nursery’s en-suite bathroom.

It stares back.

It looks so harmless, flanked by a folded stack of soft white towels and a simple bottle of baby soap.

I’ve watched Mrs. Wen do this exact routine twice a day for nearly two weeks. I know all the rules in my head. I know a baby’s neck muscles are too weak to hold up her own head. I know how quickly a newborn can lose heat. I know wet newborn skin is slippery as ice.

I know all of it. So why does my chest feel so tight I can barely expand my lungs?

"You’re staring at it like it’s going to bite you."

I don’t even have to turn around to know Bael is standing in the doorway. I catch his reflection in the tall mirror above the sink, his dark hair still slightly messy from sleep, his collar open, his shirt sleeves pulled up past his forearms.

"It’s not funny," I say, my voice clipped as I dip the inside of my wrist back into the warm water for the sixth time. "It’s a life-or-death scenario in a tiny plastic tub."

Bael walks in, his footfall soundless against the bathroom tile. He leans a hip against the counter beside me, looking down at the water, then back up at my face. A small twitch tugs at the left corner of his mouth. "It holds four inches of water, Runze."

"Don’t," I warn, narrowing my eyes at him. "Do not laugh."

"I’m not laughing."

"You are. Your jaw is moving."

Before I can jab an elbow into his ribs, the rustle of footsteps from the nursery signals Mrs. Wen coming over from the crib, gently holding Siying against her chest. Grandmother Wuchen follows silently behind her, taking a seat in the velvet armchair placed just outside the bathroom doorway so she can watch without crowding the space.

My daughter is wide awake, her eyes drifting around the room, completely unaware of how nervous I am.

"Is the Young Master ready?" Mrs. Wen asks, her tone light and warm.

"No," I say instantly.

Bael lets out a low, huffing laugh into his fist. I glare at him, my knuckles tight against the edge of the counter as I take a slow, grounding breath. I’ve prepared for this for two weeks. I know what to do.

Mrs. Wen unfastens Siying’s yellow onesie, keeping her wrapped in a thin swaddle blanket until the very last second before handing her to me.

She feels impossibly light, fragile, like a creature made of paper and warm air. I slide my left hand carefully beneath her upper back, making sure my palm firmly supports the back of her head while my right hand scoops under her bottom.

"Lowering her in," I announce to the room, my voice tight.

The absolute second her bare feet break the surface of the warm water, Siying’s entire face scrunches up, and a sharp, glass-shattering wail tears from her lungs.

My heart slams straight into my throat. Instinct takes over, I hold her steady right above the water, checking her position. "Wait—she’s crying! Something’s wrong!"

Bael leans in instantly, his eyes locking onto Siying. The playful look on his face completely vanishes, replaced by sharp panic. "Is she alright? Is the water too hot?"

"I checked it six times, it’s warm," I say, keeping my hands steady even as panic spikes in my chest. "Mrs. Wen, is she okay?"

"She always fusses when her feet first touch the water, Young Master," Mrs. Wen assures us gently, standing close by with a towel ready. "Give her a moment to adjust."

"Hold her head a little higher," Bael whispers. His own hand hovers two inches right above the water, his fingers tense, ready to catch her if I slip. He’s trying to sound steady, but I can hear the edge of panic in his voice. He’s just as nervous as I am.

"I have her head," I say, taking a deep breath to steady my racing pulse.

Using my free hand, I cup warm water over her chest with a small, damp washcloth, keeping the warm fabric pressed against her small body so she doesn’t catch a chill. Siying’s sharp wails slowly taper down into small, shuddering sniffs. Her tiny fingers latch firmly around my thumb, her dark eyes looking up at me through wet lashes.

"See?" I tell Bael under my breath, though my own knuckles are still white against the basin. "She’s fine."

"Yeah," Bael mutters, keeping his hand hovering close anyway. "Just keep a firm grip."

I apply a tiny drop of soap to the cloth, working methodically. I carefully wipe beneath her chin where milk settles in the tiny skin folds, moving down to her armpits, across her soft stomach, and between her tiny, kicking thighs.

She turns completely, impossibly slick. It feels like trying to hold a wet, wriggling bar of soap that breathes.

My focus narrows entirely to the grip of my fingertips, holding her neck securely as I rinse the soap away with plain warm water. Near the end, as I tilt her back slightly to wash her dark hair, Siying lets out another short, indignant cry, splashing her feet against the surface and sending warm drops over my wrists.

"Almost done, Siying," I say softly, rinsing the soapy foam backward toward her neck until the water runs completely clear.

"Done," I breathe out, feeling as if a massive weight has just been lifted from my shoulders.

Bael lets out a low breath beside me, rubbing a hand down his face. "Thank God."

"You did very well, Young Master," Mrs. Wen says, moving forward to set the changing pad in order while Grandmother Wuchen quietly rises from her chair, stepping back so Mrs. Wen can slide the armchair aside for us to pass.

When I lift Siying clear of the basin, Bael steps in instantly with the open towel, holding it wide. I lay her gently into the plush fabric and wrap her up tight, gathering her close against my chest. The second the warm, dry towel folds around her, Siying stops crying entirely, smacking her lips as she blinks up at us in quiet curiosity.

As I carry her out of the bathroom to the nursery changing table, Bael hovers right at my elbow, his eyes never leaving her wrapped form.

"Not a single slip," Mrs. Wen says with a warm smile, staying by the counter to drain and clean the basin while we step into the nursery.

Grandmother Wuchen steps closer to the changing table, a rare, genuine smile softening the lines around her eyes as she watches us. "A parent learns through the tension in their own hands, Runze. You held her well."

I let out a long breath I feel like I’ve been holding for ten minutes straight, smoothing my damp palm over my forehead.

I guide her tiny arms into the sleeves of the gray sleeper outfit, fastening the snaps one by one before picking up the small plastic dropper. I squeeze the tiny liquid vitamin drop into the corner of her mouth, and she smacks her lips eagerly, her eyelids already fluttering shut from the combination of warm water and crying.

I scoop her up, resting her small head against my chest. I walk slow, rhythmic circles around the room, rubbing gentle circles on her back until her rapid breathing settles into a quiet, peaceful rhythm.

Once she’s sound asleep, I lay her gently in her crib, adjusting the light blanket over her chest. Grandmother gives me a smile before walking out, Mrs. Wen following behind her.

The moment the nursery door clicks shut, Bael catches my wrist, pulling me back until my shoulders hit his chest. His arms wrap tight around my waist, his face burying directly into the side of my neck as a low, deep laugh vibrates against my collarbone.

"Stop laughing," I say, leaning back against him as the lingering adrenaline finally drains from my legs. "I thought my heart was going to stop."

"You checked the water six times," Bael whispers against my skin, his chest expanding against my back. "And you looked like you were defusing a bomb."

"It felt like defusing a bomb."

He turns me around in his hold, his hands coming up to cup my face, looking down into my eyes with a quiet intensity. "Well... I’m proud of you for defusing the bomb, Runze."

"You were terrified too," I point out, a small smirk tugging at my mouth as I recall how hard his hand was shaking over the water. "When she started crying, you looked ready to jump into the tub."

"I was," Bael admits softly, his thumb gently tracing my cheekbone. "I thought your hands were going to shake, or I was going to fumble taking her with the towel. But you didn’t let go for a second."

I look him in the eye, raising an eyebrow. "It’s not like letting go was ever an option."

A soft, genuine laugh breaks from his chest. His arms tighten around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I bury my face in the warm crook of his neck and let him hold me there, his hands resting steadily against my back.

I look back toward the crib where Siying is sleeping peacefully. My hands are still slightly cool from the lingering adrenaline, but the knot in my chest is gone.

She’s safe, she’s clean, and she’s asleep.

I survived my first bath.