Chapter 64: Domestic Disturbance
Two full days of bed rest should not feel like a prison sentence, and yet somehow I’m starting to understand why people in historical dramas dramatically throw themselves into ponds.
Xue Lian hasn’t messaged me since our last office confrontation.
No smug texts, no subtle provocations, no *I might keep him a little longer tonight*.
At first, I thought maybe he’d finally accepted defeat and decided to develop some dignity, but then I saw the article.
Right.
So that was the message... less obvious, more effective, honestly annoying.
Even more annoying was the fact that despite apparently spending the entire day touring construction sites and discussing billion-dollar projects with Xue Lian, Bael had still come home and quietly restocked my ice cream like some kind of emotionally destabilizing villain.
I hate that I’m still thinking about it.
I hate that I notice the way he’s been lately... subtly gentler, not enough for anyone else to point at and say *look, he’s changed*, but enough that I notice, enough that I keep catching myself thinking about it at inconvenient moments like brushing my teeth or trying to sleep.
It’s suspicious, and I don’t like suspicious things.
Dr. Xi said two days of rest.
Today is day two, and I have had enough.
Unfortunately, Grandmother has also decided I am apparently a fragile decorative vase, and every attempt to leave the estate is met with a look so sharp I start apologizing before she even says anything.
"Overexertion is foolish," she tells me over breakfast, which I’m not even allowed to eat downstairs anymore because apparently stairs are now my mortal enemy.
"I’m not dying," I tell her.
She takes a calm sip of tea. "Let us continue keeping it that way."
Cruel, absolutely cruel.
But the problem is, even if I were allowed to go out, where exactly would I go? I don’t have friends... a realization that sounds significantly sadder when said out loud... and Mrs. Zhou’s gala is still five days away.
Bael’s office would normally be an excellent option for strategic interruption purposes, except apparently the universe also hates me because today he decided to work from the home office instead, meaning he is here, in the house, existing, being quietly considerate and therefore impossible to deal with.
I would actually prefer Xue Lian’s nonsense at this point because at least manipulation is familiar territory.
This? Ice cream and gentle hands and being asked if I’ve eaten?
Terrifying.
So naturally, I decide the best solution is avoidance.
I leave the bedroom and start walking with no destination, just movement, fresh air, freedom, escape.
Liang Feng follows me at a respectful distance like my own personal shadow of concern, probably under strict instructions not to let me trip over oxygen.
"I’m not going to run away," I tell him.
"Yes, Young Master."
Which means absolutely nothing because he keeps following me anyway.
The Wuchen estate is absurdly large when you actually take the time to walk through it, gardens trimmed to perfection, stone paths that look like they belong in expensive magazines, enough land to start a small country.
The outside breeze is cooler than I expected, brushing against my skin and making me realize I’ve been indoors too long, and for a moment it actually feels nice until I stand too long and the sudden dizziness reminds me that apparently I am, in fact, carrying a whole person inside me and should stop pretending I’m invincible.
Annoying.
I head back inside before Liang Feng can start looking like he’s about to call emergency services.
Eventually, I end up in the study, safer territory, familiar, my unfinished architectural sketch still spread across the desk exactly where I left it, pencil beside it like it’s been waiting for me to stop being dramatic and come back.
Finally, something useful, something that makes sense, something that behaves.
Architecture doesn’t flirt with your husband.
Peaceful.
I’m so focused on adjusting lines and refining proportions that I don’t notice someone enter until a voice appears beside me.
"Oh."
I nearly stab the paper with my pencil.
Bael.
He’s standing close, too close, close enough that I can smell that clean familiar scent of him and it immediately ruins my concentration.
His gaze is on the sketch and I straighten instinctively.
"What?"
He leans slightly, studying the design with that quiet intensity he gives everything important.
"You do have good use for your hands after all."
I narrow my eyes, there’s a pause, then he adds very calmly, "Other than trying to claw your husband to death."
I stare at him.
The audacity, the absolute audacity.
For one brief reckless second, I consider doing exactly that, then I remember the consequences of the last time... the punishment, the hospital, the two days of enforced rest.
My legs actually threaten to cross from trauma.
I set the pencil down with dignity. "Funny, I was just thinking your neck healed so fast. A shame, really."
His mouth twitches, not quite a smile, worse because somehow that’s more dangerous.
He steps closer, one hand coming up to hold my jaw lightly, fingers warm against my skin, thumb resting near my chin like he has every right in the world, which irritatingly he does.
"Since my wife is apparently so busy," he says, voice low and annoyingly calm, "that he didn’t care whether his husband had lunch today... I thought perhaps I should be the good husband instead and remind my wife to remind his husband to eat."
I blink. "Maybe my husband should learn how to feed himself. He seems highly educated."
That almost gets a real smile, almost, his thumb brushes once against my jaw.
"Still sharp."
"Unfortunately for you."
"Very unfortunate."
The way he says it does something strange to my heartbeat and I decide standing up is the correct choice because proximity is becoming a problem.
I push my chair back and rise... and immediately regret existing.
My legs wobble slightly, my balance betraying me like the traitors they are, and before I can recover Bael catches me easily, one arm around my waist, pulling me against him like this was always the obvious outcome.
I freeze, his hand is firm at my waist, too firm, too warm.
"If you can’t even walk by yourself again," he says, voice quieter now, "maybe I should carry you everywhere."
Heat floods my face so fast it should be medically impressive.
"I can walk."
"Mm."
"I can."
"Of course."
I push at his chest but nothing happens, I might as well be arguing with a building.
"Let go."
"No."
"Bael."
"Runze."
His face is too close, when did it get that close? I can see his eyes clearly, dark and steady and focused entirely on me in a way that makes my chest feel unhelpfully tight, my heart is beating so loudly I’m convinced he can hear it.
This is ridiculous, I hate this, I really really—
And then he kisses me.
No warning, he just closes the distance and steals the rest of my thoughts, and it’s deep immediately, deliberate and slow in a way that somehow feels worse than urgency would have, his hand tightens slightly at my waist, the other still holding my face as if making sure I stay exactly where he wants me.
Which I do, traitorously, completely.
By the time he pulls back I’m standing there like my soul has temporarily left my body, I blink at him once, twice.
This man, this absolutely terrible man.
He looks entirely too composed for someone who just committed emotional warfare in broad daylight.
Then he steps back like nothing happened and starts walking toward the door.
"Come eat lunch," he says.
I just stare.
For a few seconds, I just stand there, completely still, staring at nothing.
My lips still feel warm.
My heart is beating so fast it’s actually embarrassing, and I hate that he can probably tell. I hate that he kissed me like that in the middle of the day, like it was nothing, like he could just walk into the study, ruin my entire ability to think, and then casually tell me to come eat lunch.
And the worst part is, he absolutely can.
It would be easier if he stayed cold, if he stayed distant, if all I had to deal with was Xue Lian trying to steal territory and Bael standing there like an expensive statue everyone was fighting over.
That, I understand. That, I can handle.
But this version of him... quietly buying ice cream because he noticed I was running low, asking if I’ve eaten, touching me like it matters, kissing me like I matter...
That is much worse, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with kindness that feels real. And I’m starting to think the bigger problem here isn’t Xue Lian.
It’s me.
Because I liked that kiss far more than I should have.
He pauses at the doorway and glances back. "And try not to attack me before dinner. I have work."
I grab the nearest pencil.
He leaves before I can throw it.