Chapter 272: Deliberate Distractions

Bael’s POV

The image loads clearly on the dark glass screen.

Runze poses right beside the open takeaway box, his eyes bright with playful mischief and a soft, lingering smile curving his lips.

Below the photo, a single line of text sits in the chat bar:

*What looks more delicious, me or the dish?*

A sudden flush spreads straight to Bael’s ears as he stares at the screen and reads the line again.

The pure, unadulterated boldness of his husband’s message catches him completely unprepared. His fingers tighten around his phone so hard the joints of his knuckles turn pale. For a second, he almost slams the phone down on the desk.

"Fuck," Bael mutters under his breath, his voice low and scratchy in the quiet room.

He makes a decisive motion to press the power button and lock the display, but his eyes refuse to leave the screen. He isn’t looking at the lunch box or the carefully arranged side dishes he had ordered from the restaurant. He is just looking at Runze, at the soft, clean line of his jaw, the subtle flush on his skin, and the distinct, inviting warmth in those striking amber eyes.

He taps open the reply box, his thumbs moving rapidly across the glass interface.

Stop doing this to me—

He pauses. He hits backspace repeatedly, wiping the words away before he can even finish the thought. He rubs one palm over his chin, his throat feeling unexpectedly dry. He shakes his head slightly and tries again.

Don’t seduce m—

He deletes that one too, clearing it with a frustrated flick of his thumb. He starts a third line, forcing a stern tone onto the screen.

The food...

He clears the line completely before the sentence can take root.

Bael sets the phone down on the desk for a moment, closing his eyes as he takes a breath to calm his racing pulse. He leans back against his chair, staring up at the ceiling. A dark, quiet spark of competitive energy begins to surge in his chest, chasing away his initial embarrassment.

He reaches down and picks the phone back up.

Without second-guessing himself, Bael uses his free hand to grab the knot of his necktie, loosening it in one easy motion. He unbuttons his white dress shirt down to the fourth button, letting the collar fall open to expose the sharp line of his collarbones and throat. He lifts his left hand, touching the side of his cheek near his jaw, tilts his head slightly toward the natural light, and lets a slow, deliberate look settle over his face.

He takes a selfie.

He attaches the picture to the chat thread and types out a quick, single-line reply:

*I think I’m more delicious. Want a taste?*

He hits send and smirks.

Not three seconds later, the phone vibrates hard against his palm.

Runze: *Shameless!!!*

Right after that is a sticker of a tiny cartoon character hiding a bright red, blushing face behind its oversized paws.

A low, genuine laugh breaks from Bael’s chest, echoing softly off the quiet walls of the grand office. A quiet ease settles over him as he rests his elbow on the soft leather armrest, staring down at the glowing screen with a subtle feeling of satisfaction.

Even after the chat thread goes quiet and no new notifications pop up, Bael finds himself reopening Runze’s photo. His thumb rests near the bottom edge of the screen. He traces the soft curve of Runze’s lips on the screen, those inviting eyes looking straight back at him through the lens, full of effortless life and confidence.

Bael sets the phone down on the desk with a sigh, fastening his shirt buttons back into place, pulling his tie neat again, and reaching for his fountain pen.

Before the nib can touch the document resting in front of him, the desk line buzzes with a sharp chime.

Shen Rui’s voice filters clearly through the speaker. "President Wuchen. Mr. Jin Hao is down in the main lobby. He doesn’t have an appointment on your schedule, but he is asking to see you immediately."

Bael’s brow furrows, every trace of amusement instantly vanishing as his expression returns to its cold, distant corporate mask. He presses the response button with a firm tap. "Send him up."

A couple of minutes later, the doors of the office slide open.

Jin Hao walks into the office. He is impeccably put together as always, his sharp suit crisp and tailored, yet dark circles sit under his eyes and a hollow exhaustion hangs over his presence. He lacks every ounce of his usual composure.

"Mr. Wuchen," Jin Hao says, his voice flat and dry as he halts a few paces away from the desk.

Bael doesn’t bother standing up to greet him. He presses his thumb and forefinger hard against his temples, feeling a dull, thumping ache starting to form right behind his eyes.

"Why are you in my office, Jin Hao?" Bael asks, his tone entirely flat and cold.

Jin Hao lets out a long breath, reaching out to pull back one of the guest chairs. He sits down without waiting for an invitation, resting his hands heavily on his knees as he stares down at the polished floor. His voice drops into a gravelly, tight rasp, strained with a mixture of anger and raw frustration as he lays out what had happened, how he had handled the retraction of the public engagement announcement and closed the business deal, only for Ling Yue to take his car keys, slip out of the house in the middle of the night, and drive off without picking up a single call since.

His jaw remains set in a hard, frustrated line. He knows why Ling Yue is furious, he knows the hidden engagement deal hurt him. But in his mind, the deal was canceled, so the issue was fixed.

Bael listens to the entire explanation with an unreadable expression, raising an eyebrow before he finally speaks. "And why are you telling me this? I am not your friend, and I don’t have time to waste listening to your personal failures."

Jin Hao lifts his head, the frustration in his eyes barely masking how badly he has been worn down. "Then we can be friends from now on? Your husband and Ling Yue are best friends, and I believe Runze will be happy if his husband is friends with his best friend’s boyfriend."

A cold, sharp smirk touches the corner of Bael’s lips. "That logic might hold weight if you were still his boyfriend. But as things stand, you are an ex-boyfriend."

"I am not his ex," Jin Hao snaps back instantly, his jaw tightening as a flare of anger breaks through his exhaustion. "Ling Yue is mine."

"You are clearly becoming one," Bael says calmly, picking up his pen and capping it with a quiet, deliberate click. "You hid an engagement deal from him, allowed him to find out about it through the news, and then expected him to simply accept your explanation once you canceled it. You hurt his pride, ignored what he was feeling, and now you’re surprised that he doesn’t want to stay with you?"

Jin Hao’s defensive posture slowly collapses. He leans forward, dropping his head into his hands as the anger drains from his face.

"I came here because I don’t know what else to do." He drags a hand down his face before looking up again. "You have a happy home, Bael. So tell me what I’m doing wrong."

Bael studies him for a moment.

"I worked hard for my home," Bael says, his voice dropping into a proud, unyielding cadence.

Jin Hao straightens slightly, listening.

Bael’s gaze drops to the document on his desk before he continues, his voice quieter but no less firm.

"The problem is that you keep looking at this as if canceling the deal should have fixed everything. It doesn’t work that way."

Jin Hao remains silent.

"You canceled the engagement," Bael says. "Fine. But you didn’t cancel the humiliation. You didn’t erase the fact that Ling Yue had to hear about it from other people while you were the one person who should have told him."

Jin Hao’s expression changes. His eyes lower toward the floor as the words settle.

"So what am I supposed to do now?"

Bael leans back slightly in his chair, studying him with the same detached expression he uses when evaluating a business problem.

"Start by apologizing."

Jin Hao lets out a quiet breath. "I already explained why I did it."

"That’s not an apology."

The words land heavily enough that Jin Hao falls silent again.

Bael picks up his pen, turning it once between his fingers before adding, "You don’t need to convince him that your reasons were valid. You need to acknowledge that you hurt him."

Jin Hao stares at him for several seconds.

"...And if he doesn’t forgive me?"

Bael’s expression doesn’t change.

"Then you earn his forgiveness."

Jin Hao sits there quietly, rubbing a hand over his tired face. For the first time since entering the office, he looks less angry than genuinely defeated.

"I understand," he says eventually, his voice quieter.

Bael gives a small nod and finally looks down at the documents on his desk again.

"Good."

Jin Hao remains seated for another moment, as if committing the words to memory. Then he slowly pushes himself to his feet.

"Thank you, Bael."

Bael doesn’t look up. "Don’t thank me yet. Go talk to him."

Jin Hao turns around and walks toward the exit, the doors clicking shut quietly behind him as he steps out into the private corridor.

Bael remains alone in the vast, quiet office, his gaze fixed on the doorway Jin Hao disappeared through.

*I worked hard for my home.*

The words replay in his mind, and a faint, self-deprecating smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

He knows that wasn’t entirely true.

He had worked for his home, certainly. He had fought for Runze, protected their relationship, and learned to put Runze’s happiness ahead of his own pride. But he had also made mistakes. He had been possessive when he shouldn’t have been, stubborn when he should have listened, and more than once, he had needed Runze to point out what his own feelings had prevented him from seeing.

What mattered was that Runze had never expected him to be perfect. He was patient enough to tell Bael when he was wrong, honest enough to challenge him, and willing to give him room to correct his mistakes instead of turning every disagreement into a reason to walk away.

Maybe Bael hadn’t figured out the secret to a successful marriage after all. Maybe he simply knew what it felt like to have something worth protecting, and he was fortunate enough to have a husband willing to build that home with him.

His gaze drops to the phone lying on his desk.

He reaches out and turns it face-up.

The screen lights immediately, displaying Runze’s smiling face beside the meal box, those bright eyes looking straight into the camera with the same playful confidence that had completely derailed Bael’s concentration earlier.

Warmth spreads through his chest.

He runs his thumb once over the glass before locking the phone again and reaching for his pen.