Chapter 168: Chapter 168: A Place To Return To
*Runze’s POV*
**Former Wuchen Group Executive Vice President Arrested On Charges of Financial Embezzlement.**
**Authorities confirm investigation remains ongoing.**
My thumb stops scrolling.
The headline stays fixed on the screen, the bold text glaring back at me. I stare at it for several long seconds, processing the words one by one before quietly reading the entire line again.
Wuchen Ming.
Arrested.
Even looking directly at the official report, it doesn’t feel real. The sheer speed of it leaves me slightly breathless.
Only a few minutes ago, Bael sat me down and calmly explained that my accident hadn’t been an accident at all. Someone wanted me dead. Someone had arranged every step of that collision, calculating the risk and ensuring the truck hit exactly where it did.
Someone who shares Bael’s blood.
By all accounts, I should be terrified. I should be furious, or at the very least, still reeling from the sudden, stark realization of how close I came to never waking up.
But instead, my attention drifts somewhere else entirely.
Or rather, to someone else.
A solid, unmoving warmth rests against my back. Bael hasn’t let go of me once since our conversation ended. He is the one sitting back against the headboard, his broad frame a steady anchor behind me, while I lean back completely against his chest. My phone rests loosely in my hands as I scroll, cocooned securely within the circle of his arms.
It isn’t a loose, casual embrace. He holds me firmly, his grip possessing a quiet, protective intensity, as if he believes that relaxing his hold for even a fraction of a second might cause me to disappear again. His chin rests lightly against my shoulder, and every now and then, I feel the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing brush against the skin of my neck.
In his other hand, he holds a warm glass of soy milk blended with black sesame and walnuts. He had personally called the doctor earlier this morning, pressing for a precise list of what I was cleared to consume before directing the kitchen to prepare it. Mrs. Wen had merely been the one to deliver it, though she still left her strict instructions before escaping back downstairs.
*"Since the doctor approved this. Young Master has to finish it."*
Bael has taken that responsibility with absolute seriousness.
I look back down at the headline, the reality of the corporate downfall finally sinking in. "I still can’t believe he actually—"
Before I can finish the sentence, the tip of the straw appears in front of my lips. Without thinking, I part them. A warm, rich mouthful of the nutty blend slides across my tongue. Only after I swallow does Bael lower the glass, allowing me to continue.
"—got arrested."
"Hm," Bael responds quietly, his voice a low vibration against my shoulder.
I scroll down the page. There isn’t much detailed information available to the public yet—mostly just wild speculation from financial journalists. The media still genuinely believes the investigation is purely centered on corporate embezzlement. Nobody knows anything about the truck, the deliberate sabotage, or Secretary Liu’s involvement.
Good. I prefer it that way. I have no desire to see the intimate details of my life, or my near-death experience, discussed by the entire country.
My thumb moves again, bringing up another article. This one features a grainy photograph of Wuchen Ming being escorted out of a building and into a waiting government vehicle. I look at his expression, searching for something, though I don’t quite know what.
Bael’s arm tightens around my waist. It isn’t enough to hurt, just a steady pressure that draws me a fraction closer to him, reminding me of his presence.
Earlier, right after he finished telling me the truth about the investigation, he had held me exactly like this. His voice had been rough, stripped of its usual composure when he murmured,
*"I’m sorry. I should’ve protected you."*
I had turned around just enough to look at him, telling him it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t argued or tried to defend his past actions. He had only rested his forehead against mine, holding me steady as he said, *"I won’t let anything like that happen again. Never."*
There was no dramatic promise. No grand, sweeping declaration. But hearing the quiet finality in his tone, I believed every single syllable.
The straw touches my lips again, interrupting my thoughts. I drink obediently this time, taking a longer sip of the thick, warm liquid. Bael withdraws the glass when I finish, the unspoken understanding between us perfectly natural.
I smile a little, the lingering chill from the news report fading against his warmth. This quiet space we’ve found isn’t so bad.
The bedroom feels strangely still. My phone gives a soft buzz, the screen timing out and going dark. Instead of waking it back up, I press the button to lock it completely.
"Bael."
"Hm?"
"I think... I’ve seen enough news for today."
"Hm," his answer comes almost immediately, his breath warm against my ear. "I agree."
I lean back a little more, letting my weight settle. He adjusts his position naturally, shifting his arm so I rest more comfortably against his chest. The movement happens so fluidly, so instinctively, that I’m not even sure either of us consciously registers it anymore.
We just fit.
The room seems to shrink until only the sound of our breathing remains. Then Bael speaks up, his voice breaking the quiet.
"...Someone else called."
I blink, looking at the dark screen of my phone. "My phone?"
"Hm."
"When?"
"This morning. I answered."
I nod absentmindedly. I had initially assumed my phone was destroyed in the crash, but Bael had apparently gotten it repaired during my stay in the hospital. He had purposely kept it away from me during my recovery, shielding me from the chaotic headlines and frantic notifications that would have only caused unnecessary stress while I was weak.
"Who was it?" I ask.
There is the smallest, briefest pause in his breathing.
"...Li Feifei."
My entire body stiffens.
The name lands quietly between us, yet it echoes louder than any corporate scandal or headline I’ve read all morning.
Bael feels the sudden shift in my posture immediately. His arm around my waist tightens almost imperceptibly, a steady anchor holding me in place.
I stare silently at the phone in my hand. I haven’t spoken to Feifei in months. Not since the tense atmosphere of the ball after our wedding, and certainly not since everything dissolved into chaos.
Bael’s voice remains even, though there is a subtle touch of uncertainty in his tone.
"She knew you were discharged yesterday. I’m assuming she called grandmother first to check on you, and she told her."
There was no way she wouldn’t have heard about the accident itself, the media had covered the crash heavily for days before the family took control of the narrative. But the fact that she knew I was already back at the estate means she had been actively looking for updates.
I lower my eyes, my fingers tightening slightly around the edges of the phone.
"...What did she say?"
"She sounded... worried," Bael answers honestly. He pauses for a beat, letting the weight of the statement settle between us. "She wants to come see you at the estate tomorrow."
I nod slowly, the reality of her impending visit sinking in.
Bael shifts slightly behind me, removing his hand from my waist. He raises it to the side of my face, his fingers gently turning my chin just enough so he can see my face clearly from the side.
His gray eyes are steady, holding my gaze completely.
"If you don’t want to see her, she won’t enter this estate."
A brief pause hangs in the air.
"But if you do... I’ll be with you."
His voice is calm, completely matter-of-fact. He states it as though there has never been another option, presenting it without a hint of judgment or expectation.
I stare at him for a long second, slightly stunned by the revelation.
"...You’re asking me?"
Bael looks almost puzzled by my question, his brow lifting slightly.
"Why wouldn’t I?" His thumb brushes lightly across the back of my hand.
"It’s your sister. You decide."
He doesn’t say *I decided*. He doesn’t say *I refused*, or *I’ll handle it*. He simply hands the choice back to me.
My decision. Mine alone.
Bael used to just handle things. In the past, he would make a decision entirely on his own and simply inform me of the outcome later, leaving me to adapt to whatever boundaries he had already set.
To have him step back now and actively wait for my permission feels incredibly grounding.
His fingers lift from my chin, moving absentmindedly to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The gesture is so unconscious that I’m not even sure he realizes he has done it.
He leans forward slightly, pressing a short, gentle kiss against the curve of my shoulder before letting his hand rest over mine.
"...Think about it," he says softly, his breath stirring my hair. "We don’t have to decide today."
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