Chapter 166: Chapter 166: Welcome Home
*Runze’s POV*
The gates close quietly behind us.
The sound echoes faintly through the car before dissolving into the familiar hush of the estate grounds.
Home.
The word settles somewhere deep inside me, heavy and real. Bael’s arm remains around my shoulders, his palm resting against my back as though he hasn’t quite convinced himself that we are finally here.
Only when the car rolls to a smooth, silent stop right beneath the main entrance does he slowly loosen his hold.
Neither of us moves immediately. We sit in the quiet of the vehicle for a heartbeat, letting the reality of our arrival sink in. The driver steps out first, his door opening with a dull click, and a moment later a guard opens our door.
Cool air drifts inside, cutting through the warm stillness of the interior.
Bael climbs out first. He stands on the stone driveway, turning back toward me and extending his free hand without a single word.
I take it.
The moment my shoes touch the ground, I look up at the towering entrance of the Wuchen estate. It looks exactly the same as the last time I saw it. The marble steps, the carved pillars, the quiet elegance that used to make me feel so small and out of place when I first arrived.
Yet somehow, looking at it now, everything feels entirely different.
Bael stays right by my side as we climb the steps together, shortening his stride to match my careful pace.
Before we even reach the top, the double doors swing inward. I expect to see only Mrs. Wen waiting past the threshold.
Instead, a line of women stands neatly on both sides of the entrance hall. Every one of them wears an identical uniform, and the moment they see us, they lower their heads in unison.
"Welcome home, Young Master."
Their voices blend into a single, polite chorus.
I stop walking.
For a brief second, I wonder if we have somehow entered the wrong house. There has never been this much staff present before. The estate has always operated with a strange, quiet minimalism; apart from the kitchen staff, the weekly cleaners, and Mrs. Wen, I rarely ever see anyone else moving through the halls.
I instinctively glance toward Bael. His expression doesn’t change, he isn’t surprised at all, which means this arrangement was entirely planned.
Mrs. Wen hurries forward from the back of the hall. "Young Master..."
Her eyes are already red before she even reaches me. She catches herself halfway through what looks suspiciously like an attempt to throw her arms around me, clearly remembering the long list of medical precautions the doctor gave us. Instead, she stops a foot away, smiling through watery eyes.
"Welcome home."
Before I can answer, another figure approaches from the formal living area.
Grandmother.
She doesn’t hurry. She never does. She walks with the same calm dignity she brings into every room, stopping only when she stands directly in front of me. Her sharp eyes linger on my face, then move to my shoulders, taking in the way I am standing. Only after satisfying herself that I am truly intact does she give a small, solitary nod.
"You’ve lost weight."
There is no criticism in her voice, nor any overt display of worry. It is simply an observation.
"I’ll gain it back," I reply softly.
"Hm." Another tiny nod follows. "You will."
For reasons I can’t quite explain, hearing those simple words makes the remaining tightness in my chest loosen.
Mrs. Wen claps her hands together gently, breaking the quiet. "Come inside first. Food is ready."
Only then do I notice the faint aroma drifting through the hall. Warm soup, fresh rice, steamed fish. The comforting scent wraps around me before I have even crossed the inner threshold, grounding me in the reality of being back.
As we walk toward the dining room, I glance back once more toward the unfamiliar maids standing by the doors.
Mrs. Wen notices my look immediately. "They’ll be staying."
I blink, turning my head slightly. "Staying?"
She smiles gently, her voice dropping to a reassuring tone. "To help."
Grandmother answers before I can ask for clarification, her voice even and absolute. "Mrs. Wen cannot be everywhere. There should always be someone available."
That is all she says. There is no lengthy explanation, no further discussion, but the meaning behind it becomes perfectly clear. These women hadn’t been brought in because the estate suddenly required more upkeep. They had been hired because of me, to ensure I am never left unattended while I recover.
My throat tightens. Bael quietly steps closer, his presence grounding me before the wave of emotion can take over. He catches my hand beneath the sleeve of my sweater, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of my skin—a silent reminder to breathe.
The dining room looks exactly as I remembered. The polished table is set perfectly, fresh flowers rest neatly in the center, and soft instrumental music drifts almost unnoticed through the hidden speakers.
Everything feels incredibly peaceful.
Mrs. Wen pulls out a chair for me, and Bael waits until I am safely seated before taking his place right beside me.
One by one, the dishes are brought out from the kitchen. Steamed sea bass, egg custard, lotus root soup, soft vegetables, and rice porridge. Everything is warm, simple, and light. There is nothing heavy, nothing spicy, and nothing fried.
I stare at the spread, slightly stunned. "This is..."
"The doctor approved every single dish," Mrs. Wen answers proudly, adjusting a spoon by my bowl. "I asked three times to make sure."
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. "...Thank you."
She beams as though I have just complimented a massive banquet.
After everyone settles, Mrs. Wen disappears briefly into the adjoining room before returning with two velvet boxes. One is a deep, dark green, the other is ivory white. She places both of them carefully on the table right in front of Grandmother.
The room grows entirely quiet.
Grandmother rests one hand atop the green box, her gaze settling on me. "The one inside... was meant for your presentation."
I blink. "My... presentation?"
"I heard it went very well," she says, her voice calm and steady. "I intended to congratulate you properly. The opportunity never came."
Her fingers linger on the velvet for a heartbeat before she gently slides the box across the polished wood toward me.
My fingers hesitate before lifting the lid. Inside rests a leather-bound sketchbook. It is beautifully handcrafted, the dark leather rich and smooth beneath my fingertips, and the paper inside is thick, textured, and perfect for architectural drafting.
I look up at her. "I..."
For once, words fail me entirely.
Before I can recover, Grandmother rests her hand atop the second box. "This one..." She looks at me for a long moment, long enough that even Mrs. Wen stops smiling. "...is because you came home."
Something catches painfully in my throat. I reach out and open it slowly.
Inside rests a small white jade seal, simple and elegant. Only two characters have been carved into its face: 润泽. Runze.
Nothing else. There is no family crest, no surname. Just me.
I carefully lift the small object into my palm. The jade feels cool against my skin. I turn it over silently, staring at the characters.
Grandmother speaks again, breaking the silence. "Architects leave pieces of themselves behind. When people look at your work... they should know who created it."
My fingers tighten almost unconsciously around the smooth stone. "I don’t know what to say."
"You don’t have to," she answers immediately. A brief pause follows, and then, in the same steady voice, she adds, "You’ll need it."
There is no *perhaps* in her tone. No *one day.* Just a quiet certainty, as though she has already decided what my future looks like.
My vision blurs slightly, the edges of the room softening. I lower my head quickly before anyone can notice the sudden warmth in my eyes.
Beside me, Bael has already been holding my hand all along beneath the table, his fingers securely intertwined with mine. Sensing the shift in my posture, he releases his grip just long enough to lift his hand, reaching up to gently stroke the back of my neck, his fingers trailing into the hair at the base of my head in a soothing, grounding rhythm.
Mrs. Wen suddenly gasps, breaking the emotional gravity of the moment. "Oh!" She slaps her forehead lightly. "I almost forgot."
Everyone turns to look at her.
"The photographer has been waiting," she says, smiling sheepishly before glancing toward the head of the table.
Grandmother calmly takes another sip of her tea, entirely unbothered. "The family portrait should be updated."
I freeze, my fingers stiffening against Bael’s lap. "Family... portrait?"
For a second, I simply stare at her. Then, the understanding slowly dawns on me. This isn’t about updating an old photograph or replacing a faded frame.
This is about making a permanent room for me within the lineage of this house.
My chest tightens so suddenly it almost hurts, a rush of emotion making it hard to swallow. Before I can stop myself, my eyes drift toward Bael.
He is already looking at me. There is nothing teasing or distant in his expression, only a profound warmth and absolute certainty. His fingers remain at the back of my neck, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin right behind my ear in a slow, rhythmic motion that speaks louder than any declaration.
That single, steady touch confirms it.
I belong here. Not as a guest, not as someone merely passing through, but as family.
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