Chapter 145: Chapter 145: Friday
Ever since that busy Monday, the week had turned into a very specific routine.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday all started exactly the same way.
Bael would drive me to the Dingshan office in the morning, his fingers locked through mine on the seat, and the car doors wouldn’t click unlocked until I leaned over and gave him his quick, dry kiss on the cheek.
I always rolled my eyes and complained about the time, but by Thursday, it was just our unwritten rule. We did it every single day, a little pattern that kept me grounded while the pressure of the upcoming presentation kept building up in my head.
But today is Friday. The morning of the actual presentation.
The car is pulled up to the curb outside Dingshan but we haven’t moved.
The reality of the day is completely hitting me now. This afternoon, the board and the big investors are going to review every single drawing Elliot and I have spent months designing. It is going to be my very first real debut in the architecture business world, and the sheer weight of it is making my chest feel tight.
I can see the building through the window. I can also see the people gathered near the entrance, more than usual, significantly more, and the particular quality of crowd that comes with cameras and press lanyards and people who are paid to be somewhere before anything actually happens.
Bael had seen it before I did.
I reach for my bag, turning my body toward Bael to give him his usual fast peck so I can run inside, but Bael doesn’t let me move.
His hand catches my chin, his fingers warm against my skin, and he pulls me directly into his space.
Before I can even say a word about the time, his mouth covers mine. A deep, desperate kiss that completely takes the air right out of my lungs, his tongue sliding past my lips to claim my mouth so thoroughly that my mind goes totally blank.
He kisses me like he genuinely doesn’t want to let me go, his lips hot against mine as if he wants to trap me inside the car with him forever.
When he finally pulls back just a little bit, his gray eyes are fiercely bright, staring straight into my eyes. He looks completely serious, his jaw set tight as he slides his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into a tight hug. I can hear the fast thud of his heart against my chest, and it matches the frantic racing of my own.
"Bael..." I whisper, my face burning as my heart does a heavy flip against my ribs. "I really have to go. The team is waiting."
"I know," he murmurs near my ear, his voice a low, rough rumble. He tightens his arms around me for one more second, holding me so securely that the panic in my stomach actually starts to settle.
"Do well today, Runze," he says quietly, against my hair. "I know you’ll do well, they’re all going to see it."
I lean into his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent, wishing I could stay right here in his arms where it’s safe.
He could easily come inside with me if he wanted to. He has the corporate power to sit right in the front row of that auditorium, but when we talked about it before, he was the one who said no.
I already know why. He doesn’t have to explain it and he doesn’t try to. If Bael Wuchen walks into that building today, the story stops being about the presentation. It stops being about the work, about second place at Dingshan, about months of sessions and structural revisions and an entrance that faces east. It becomes about him. About access and influence and whose name opened which door.
He knows that.
He decided against it, for me, without me having to ask.
On top of that, he actually had an urgent, high-level meeting come up at his own headquarters this morning that he couldn’t push back at all.
"I will come to pick you up the second it’s over," Bael says softly, letting his arms drop just enough so I can sit up and look at him. His gray eyes are soft as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I’ll be right here waiting for you."
"Okay," I say, trying to make my voice sound steady and brave. "I’ll hold you to that."
The car door finally clicks unlocked, the sound sharp in the quiet space.
I grab my bag, take a breath, and push the door open.
***
The difference is immediate.
Liang Feng is out of the front seat before my feet hit the pavement, not his usual half-step behind, but close, deliberate, already reading the crowd near the entrance with sharp, assessing eyes. Qiao Jin comes around from the driver’s side and falls into position on my other flank without a word exchanged between them.
Bael planned this. Of course he did.
I keep walking.
The reporters notice me almost immediately. There’s a ripple in the crowd, heads turning, the specific quickening that happens when something someone has been waiting for arrives. I can hear it, my name, the click of cameras, someone calling out a question I can’t fully parse.
"Young Master Wuchen, can you tell us—"
Liang Feng steps directly into the path of the nearest camera with a calm, immovable politeness that makes it very clear the conversation isn’t happening.
"—your involvement with the Dingshan project—"
Qiao Jin’s hand comes to my shoulder, not gripping, just present, guiding me forward through the gap that Liang Feng’s positioning has created. The entrance doors are twenty feet away. Fifteen.
Another voice, sharper: "Is it true that Wuchen Group has financial interest in—"
"No questions," Liang Feng says, behind me now, the words quiet and final.
Ten feet.
Five.
The doors slide open and the lobby air hits me, cool and clean, the sound of the crowd cutting off as the glass closes behind us.
My heart is going very fast.
Qiao Jin stays close as we cross the marble floor toward the elevators. Liang Feng pauses briefly to scan the lobby before following us in, whatever assessment he was making apparently complete.
The elevator doors open.
We step in.
The doors close.
Silence.
I look at my reflection in the polished elevator wall. Portfolio in hand, bag on my shoulder, security on either side of me. My name on a presentation that I built from the ground up over months of sessions, of arguments about canopy angles and corridor widths and an entrance that faces east because the numbers supported it.
The floor numbers begin to climb.
The realness of the day settles over me like something physical, not heavy exactly. More like substantial, like weight that means something.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
I already know who it is.
*Bael: I saw you walk in. You walked in like you belong there.*
*Bael: Because you do.*
I stare at the screen for a moment.
The elevator stops with a soft chime, and the doors slide open to the eighth floor. I look at Qiao Jin and Liang Feng, who both give me a firm, silent nod of encouragement.
Stepping out onto the floor, I see Elliot, Zhu Yi and Peng Hao already pacing near the main conference room, their arms full of layout sheets and markers. The atmosphere up here is thick with stress, the printers whirring loudly as last-minute checks are run.
"Runze, thank god," Elliot says, looking up with dark circles under his eyes. "The board wants the preliminary review thirty minutes earlier. We need to go over the east elevation load changes one last time before we head down to the auditorium."
"I’m ready," I say, my voice sounding surprisingly steady as I drop my bag onto a chair and pull out my notebook.
The panic from the sidewalk has settled into something manageable, replaced by the memory of Bael’s steady heartbeat against mine and his rough promise waiting for me downstairs.
I walk over to the table, leaning over the massive blueprints with Elliot and Zhu Yi, completely losing myself in the lines, the columns, and the numbers as the final countdown to the presentation begins.
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