Chapter 164; Take care of her....
Fang Lin stepped slightly forward, keeping her voice soft. "Yueyao, it’s nothing to worry about. They just needed some time to make sure everything was ready for you. That’s all."
Yueyao’s eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking between them. "It still feels... cold in there. Not like it’s mine." She let her words hang, an unspoken question threading through the air. "Did you move things? Did... someone decide how my room should feel without asking me?"
Jin Shuren’s voice remained smooth, reassuring, though precise. "We only adjusted what was necessary, for your comfort and safety. Your room is fine. Nothing has been done to hurt you."
Yueyao’s lips pressed together trying to believe him. She wanted to argue, to demand the truth, but the fatigue in her body and the lingering fog in her mind held her back. Instead, she let out a quiet sigh and turned back to Yueqin, brushing a stray lock of hair from her daughter’s forehead.
"I... I will just sleep here for now, just this time," she murmured, trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. Yet the unease lingered, curling like smoke at the edges of her mind. She glanced once more toward Jin Shuren, her tone soft but probing. "Promise me... nothing has been done to my room... without me?"
Jin Shuren’s gaze softened, almost imperceptibly, and he nodded, "I promise," he said, his voice steady, and calm. "Nothing has been changed that would harm you."
Yueyao exhaled slowly, returning to the bed beside Yueqin, but her eyes remained wary, scanning the unfamiliar angles of the room.
Comfort did not come easily with the unfamiliar surroundings, and the chill in the guest room felt like more than just cold air, it felt like a subtle reminder that some things in her life were carefully controlled, even if she didn’t fully understand why.
Yueyao lay on the guest bed, Yueqin curled against her side, but sleep refused to come. The room felt unfamiliar, too quiet, too cold, as if a part of her world was missing. Every attempt to close her eyes only brought the gnawing sense of incompleteness.
She sat up slowly, adjusting the blanket around Yueqin, then quietly slipped from the bed. Her bare feet whispered against the floor as she moved back toward the desk where Jin Shuren remained seated, the faint glow of the laptop casting soft shadows across his face.
Even before she reached him, the scent hit her, the subtle warmth of his cologne mixed with the natural depth of his body, a smell that was entirely him. It was soothing, grounding, a tether to the safety and familiarity her fragmented mind craved. Her chest eased with every inhalation, and a quiet, involuntary smile tugged at her lips.
"Shuren, honey" she murmured softly, her voice almost a whisper. He glanced up briefly, his dark eyes unreadable, but he didn’t rise, didn’t question her movement. He simply watched, quiet and composed, letting her approach.
With careful precision, Yueyao reached out and gently slipped the suit coat off his shoulders, letting the fabric fall into her hands. She held it for a heartbeat, inhaling the familiar scent, letting it wrap around her like a shield against the cold emptiness of the guest room.
She turned silently, coat in hand, back to where Yueqin lay, and carefully draped it at the sides. The weight of it was familiar, comforting, like carrying a piece of him with her into the unfamiliar space.
Jin Shuren didn’t speak, didn’t stop her. He simply returned to his desk, the calm authority in his posture unshaken, allowing her the small act of possession without a word.
Yueyao finally lowered herself back onto the bed, wrapping the coat around herself, the warmth and scent seeping into her bones. Yueqin stirred slightly but settled again, lulled by the soft hum of her mother. For the first time, Yueyao felt the fragile edge of peace brush against her mind.
Sleep came slowly, tentatively, but it came, anchored by the subtle presence she carried with her now, a tether that allowed her to rest, however lightly, in the cold, foreign room.
Fang Lin lingered in the hallway for a moment, watching Yueyao settle under the warmth of Jin Shuren’s coat, the gentle rise and fall of her chest signaling the fragile peace she had finally found. Her gaze softened, and a deep, heavy sigh escaped her lips.
She had known Yueyao was fragile, yes, but seeing it laid bare, the way even a simple shift of room, a minor absence, could unsettle her so completely, made the gravity of the situation impossible to ignore.
This was not a friend who could simply be comforted by words or logic. She needed care, vigilance, and most of all... someone who could anchor her, someone like Jin Shuren.
Fang Lin’s heart ached at the thought, torn between the desire to intervene and the understanding that any interference might shatter the delicate balance Jin Shuren had so carefully maintained. She swallowed hard, letting a shiver run through her at the enormity of it.
Resignation settled over her like a heavy cloak. There was nothing more she could do except to hope. Hope that Yueyao would rest, that she would remain safe, and that the precarious world Jin Shuren had built around her would hold.
Quietly, almost reverently, Fang Lin whispered under her breath, "Take care of her... please."
Then, with one last glance at the sleeping mother and child, she stepped back, closing the door gently behind her.
Outside, the house was still, but inside, she carried a silent vow: to hope, to watch, and to trust that the future, however uncertain, it might be, might still bring healing for Yueyao, one careful, guarded step at a time.
Fang Lin moved into the kitchen, her movements deliberate but quiet, as if the room itself demanded composure.
The soft clatter of knives and the gentle sizzle of vegetables greeted her, a comforting rhythm that helped anchor her scattered thoughts.