Chapter 225: Chapter 225: Does It Hurt? If It Hurts, I’ll Be Gentler
After the theory lesson, Mr. Morgan suggested they move on to some hands-on practice, a guided tutorial.
"Let’s go to the nursery now. I’ll demonstrate how to massage a four-month-old."
Adrian Lancaster seemed eager. "Alright, let’s all go upstairs."
In the nursery, Owen and Nina lay side by side in their cribs, dressed in light blue and pink onesies. Their little hands waved aimlessly in the air.
The brother resembled his father; the sharp contours of his brows and eyes were already becoming apparent.
The sister favored her mother, with fair skin and delicate, beautiful features. Her long, thick black eyelashes and big, round eyes made her look just like a porcelain doll.
Both siblings were plumper than they had been at birth. Their chubby cheeks and the deep, soft rolls on their wrists and ankles made you want to scoop them up for a kiss.
"Mr. Lancaster, Mrs. Lancaster, let’s wash our hands first."
Warm water, antibacterial soap made for babies, and a twenty-second scrub.
Adrian Lancaster and Wren Sutton washed their hands with extra care, making sure to get between their fingers and under their nails.
The massage required a warm room, so a maid adjusted the thermostat to 79 degrees.
Mr. Morgan carefully undid the buttons on the baby girl’s pink onesie.
"A baby’s muscle tone is still developing at this age, so your movements must be very gentle."
"Also, a baby’s skin is delicate, so you must use a special baby massage oil. First, warm it in your palm, just like this."
He demonstrated as he explained, every bit the professional.
"Start at the chest. Lay your entire palm flat and move in a clockwise circle, avoiding the nipple area."
Adrian Lancaster stood nearby, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glued to Mr. Morgan’s demonstration.
Under the specialist’s hands, the little girl stretched her body. She was a bit tense at first, but as the massage continued, she gradually relaxed and began to coo contentedly.
Adrian Lancaster smiled fondly. "My daughter likes massages."
"Yes, touch is the first sense a newborn develops," the specialist replied with a smile.
"Massages not only promote blood circulation and help relieve gas, but more importantly, they build a sense of security through skin-to-skin contact."
After speaking, he looked at Adrian Lancaster and Wren Sutton.
"Mr. Lancaster, Mrs. Lancaster, who wants to give it a try? It’s time to massage the babies."
The pair exchanged a glance.
"I’ll massage our daughter, and you can massage our son," Wren Sutton said.
Adrian Lancaster agreed readily. "Alright."
Under the specialist’s guidance, their movements were mostly in sync—precise yet gentle. Both were extremely cautious, afraid they might use too much force and hurt the babies.
Nina cracked a comfortable little smile at Wren Sutton and started gurgling. The sound was tender, clear, and sweet.
The brother, however, squirmed and pouted. He looked like he was about to cry, obviously uncomfortable.
Adrian Lancaster’s hands froze. His movements stopped, and a look of helplessness flashed across his face.
"Mr. Lancaster, a little more gentle. Keep your palm completely flat; don’t use your fingers," Mr. Morgan quietly instructed. "The goal is to warm the baby with your palm, not to apply pressure."
"Okay." Adrian took a breath and started again.
This time, his movements were even lighter and gentler. He pressed his palm against his son’s delicate skin and slowly made a circle, then another...
"Yes, just like that. Very good."
The baby’s brow gradually unfurrowed, his little pout relaxed, and his dark eyes, as clear as two pools of spring water, gazed up at Adrian Lancaster.
The massage moved from the chest to the arms. They gently held the tiny hands, slowly stroking from the shoulder down to the fingertips, making sure to attend to every single finger.
"The fingers have the highest concentration of nerve endings," the specialist said. "Massaging them can help promote brain development."
Adrian Lancaster nodded and followed Mr. Morgan’s instructions, gently taking his son’s little hand to knead each finger from the base to the tip.
The little hands were so chubby and cute, with fingernails like tiny, transparent seashells.
A moment later, the baby suddenly gripped Adrian Lancaster’s thumb.
For such a small hand, the grip was surprisingly tight and strong.
Adrian Lancaster froze. A strange warmth surged from his fingertip to his heart. He could feel the tangible heat of that tiny hand.
"The baby is grasping you," the specialist said, a smile in his voice.
"Babies start to grasp things intentionally at four months. This is a sign of progress."
Adrian Lancaster held his position, not daring to move for fear of disturbing the tender moment.
"Next is the back massage."
Following Mr. Morgan’s directions, Adrian Lancaster placed his palm at the baby’s neck and stroked downwards along the spine, keeping his hand flat to avoid the bony protrusions as he massaged gently.
Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patches of light on the changing pad.
"Now it’s time for the leg massage."
The two four-month-old infants lay side by side, and Adrian Lancaster knelt between them, working on both at once.
Fine beads of sweat dotted his temples, but he didn’t seem to notice. All his attention was focused on the two small, warm bodies beneath his hands.
Mr. Morgan quietly guided him from the side. "For the leg massage, you can stroke from the top of the thigh down to the ankle to help relax the muscles. Gently drawing circles on the soles of their feet can also promote nerve development."
"Yes, that’s it, just like that. You’re doing very well, Mr. Lancaster."
Wren Sutton stood to one side, watching the scene unfold.
The cuffs of the man’s expensive shirt were rolled to his elbows, his tie had been loosened long ago, and his hair was slightly messy.
His kneeling posture wasn’t elegant—in fact, it was a bit stiff from inexperience—but his expression was intensely focused and serious, without a trace of carelessness.
’He’s a little different from the Adrian Lancaster I remember, but the man in front of me really is him.’
When the massage was over, the two little ones were comfortably drowsy.
The morning’s lesson was also finished. Mr. Morgan took his leave, scheduling his next house call to focus on "Early Interactive Games for Four-Month-Olds."
After the specialist left, the nursery fell quiet again, leaving only the sound of the two babies’ even, deep breathing.
Sunlight spilled onto the wooden floor, and the faint, clean scent of massage oil lingered in the air.
Adrian Lancaster didn’t leave right away. He stood quietly by the cribs for a moment to make sure the children were sound asleep before tiptoeing to the desk by the window and sitting down.
He opened a leather-bound notebook. The soft SCRATCH of his fountain pen on the paper was a pleasant sound.
Adrian would sometimes pause to recall a detail, then write quickly, meticulously organizing and detailing every step, key point, and technique Mr. Morgan had demonstrated that morning.
He wrote it all out by hand specifically to commit it to memory.
When he got to the line, "Keep palm completely flat; use warmth, not pressure," Adrian’s pen paused. He switched to a red ink pen, drew a wavy line under the sentence, and then wrote "Important" in neat, small script in the margin.
"Pay attention to force and direction. Movements must be gentle, or the baby will be uncomfortable."
The red ink stood out sharply against the cream-colored paper.
He wrote with intense focus, only closing the notebook after he had finished adding the very last point.
As he stood up to stretch his shoulders, his gaze drifted out the window.
The garden below was bathed in bright sunlight.
Wren Sutton was strolling alone on the gravel path. She walked slowly, sometimes stopping to look at the newly bloomed roses, other times tilting her face up, closing her eyes to feel the sun’s warmth.
A gentle breeze rustled the ends of her hair and her light clothes.
Adrian Lancaster saw her give a slight shiver in the breeze. He immediately turned, walked into the closet, and grabbed a cream-colored knit cardigan from the wardrobe before quickly heading downstairs.
"I’m going to the garden to walk with my wife. The children just fell asleep, so please go upstairs and keep an eye on them."
"Yes, sir," the maid replied respectfully.
Adrian Lancaster pushed open the door to the garden, and a cool breeze washed over him.
He followed the stone path toward the garden, his footsteps making a soft crunching sound on the gravel.
Wren Sutton was leaning over to smell a sprig of light purple lavender. When she heard footsteps, she turned to see Adrian Lancaster.
"The wind’s picking up. It’s a little chilly." Adrian walked to her side and, in one fluid motion, draped the open cardigan over her shoulders. His voice was soft.
His fingers brushed lightly against the fabric on Wren’s shoulder as he gently tucked a strand of long hair, which the wind had blown forward, over the outside of the cardigan.
She was instantly enveloped in warmth, which carried the lingering heat from Adrian’s hands and his familiar scent.
Wren froze for a second, her fingers subconsciously pulling the front of the cardigan closed.
"Thank you," she said quietly, her gaze sweeping over Adrian’s still-rolled-up shirtsleeves, which left his arms exposed.
"You knew it was windy, but you didn’t grab a jacket for yourself?"
’When I was coming downstairs, all I could think about was making sure Wren didn’t get cold. I completely forgot about myself.’
"I was in a rush and forgot. It’s fine, I’m not cold."
Wren didn’t say anything else. They stood side by side for a moment before continuing their leisurely walk.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled, shifting spots of light on the ground.
Adrian tried to take Wren’s hand a few times, but couldn’t find the right moment.
"The children are sleeping soundly. I just finished rewriting my notes by hand to help me remember everything."
"Yes, you were very attentive. Mr. Morgan praised you several times."
Adrian was delighted to get Wren’s approval.
"Next time, the focus is on interactive games. We can practice together and play with the children together."
Just as Wren was about to reply, the gravel underfoot shifted, and she missed a step.
She let out a small cry as her body tilted sideways.
A jolt of panic shot through Adrian. He reached out, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her into his embrace. "Careful."
Once Wren was steady, she frowned and tried to put her right foot down, but she hissed in a sharp breath of pain.
"You twisted your ankle, didn’t you?" Adrian immediately crouched down, gently holding Wren’s calf. "Let me see."
He carefully lifted her foot, revealing a faint redness on the outside of her ankle.
Wren instinctively tried to pull her foot back, but he held it firmly.
"It’s starting to swell." Adrian’s brows furrowed, his voice filled with concern. "I’m carrying you back."
Before Wren could refuse, he swept her up into his arms and turned back the way they came.
Wren’s hands instinctively wrapped around his neck.
"It’s not that serious. I can walk on my own."
"No," Adrian’s voice was low and gentle, his arms holding her as steady as a rock. "If you hurt it again, it’ll be even worse tomorrow."
He carried Wren through the garden, walked steadily into the villa, went up to the bedroom, and gently set her down on the sofa.
"Wait here, I’ll go get some ice and the first-aid kit."
"Do you even know where the first-aid kit is?" Wren asked.
"I do."
A moment later, Adrian returned to the bedroom with everything he needed.
He knelt on one knee in front of Wren, carefully lifting her foot and resting it on his thigh.
"This might be a little cold." Adrian first wrapped the ice pack in a towel before gently applying it to Wren’s swollen ankle.
The cold soothed the pain, and Wren relaxed.
After icing it, Adrian poured some anti-inflammatory liniment into his palm, rubbed his hands together to warm it, and then began massaging the medicine into Wren’s ankle.
His hands were warm and strong, his movements gentle.
A faint herbal scent filled the air.
"Does that hurt? I can be gentler if it does."
Adrian looked up at Wren, his eyes filled with concern.
Wren shook her head. "It doesn’t hurt."
Time trickled by in the quiet room.
After a while, once he was sure the liniment had been fully absorbed, Adrian finally stopped.
He stood up, put everything away, washed his hands, and put on a jacket, looking like he was about to head out.
"Honey, let’s go to the hospital and get an X-ray."
Wren waved her hand dismissively. "We don’t need to go to the hospital. It’s just a minor sprain, nothing serious."
Adrian was still worried. "The X-ray is to check for fractures. Listen to me. We’ll be in and out."
"Really, it’s not necessary. I..."
Before Wren could finish, Adrian had pulled a pair of thick cotton socks onto her feet, lifted her from the sofa, and started walking out.
"You don’t need shoes. I’ll carry you the whole way."
