Chapter 251: Mid-Autumn Light

Runze’s POV

The autumn breeze moving through the courtyard garden carries the crisp smell of fallen leaves and sweet osmanthus.

It is nearly ten in the morning, and the sun has burned away the early fog, leaving the stone pavilion bathed in clear, pale light. A long wooden table has been set up under the shade of the grand ginkgo tree, covered in small ceramic bowls of lotus seed paste, salted egg yolks, and wooden pastry molds.

Mrs. Wen stands at the center of the table, her sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows, demonstrating how to roll dough with practiced ease.

"Not too thin on the edges, Young Master Ling," Mrs. Wen says, her voice patient as she watches Ling Yue struggle with a rolling pin. "If the skin is too thin, the lotus paste will burst through the mold during baking."

"I am trying, Mrs. Wen," Ling Yue mutters, his brows furrowed in intense concentration as a dusting of white flour coats his cheek. "Why does yours look like a smooth pearl, and mine looks like a lumpy dumpling?"

Across the table, Grandmother sits in a rattan armchair, a thin wool shawl draped over her shoulders. She sips her green tea, turning a page of her hardcover book without looking up. "Because Mrs. Wen has made thousands of mooncakes for this family, Ling Yue, and you have been trying for ten minutes."

Ling Yue pouts, dusting flour off his fingers. "Runze, tell her my technique is improving."

I sit at the lower end of the table, propped up on three thick cushions to take the pressure off my lower back. A small wooden basket of soft gray yarn rests on my lap. Beside me, one of the younger housemaids, Xiao Mei, is showing me how to loop the yarn over two long wooden needles.

"Keep the tension light, Young Master Runze," Xiao Mei says softly, gently guiding my fingers. "If you pull too tight, the stitches won’t slide."

"Like this?" I ask, carefully looping the gray thread over the needle. I hold up the four messy inches of what is supposed to be a baby blanket.

Bael sits directly to my left. A thin tablet rests in his lap, his index finger scrolling through financial reports, but his body is angled completely toward me. He hasn’t looked at his screen in five minutes; his dark eyes are fixed entirely on my awkward attempts at knitting.

"It looks like a fishnet," Bael says smoothly, his tone dry.

I shoot him a look, nudging my elbow into his side. "It is a scarf for the baby. Xiao Mei said it takes practice."

"It is very fine work for a beginner, Young Master," Xiao Mei insists quickly, blushing as Bael’s gaze flickers toward her.

"Do not encourage him, Xiao Mei," Grandmother chimes in, setting her teacup down with a light click against the saucer. "If he knits any longer, his neck will be sore for the rest of the day. Bael, take those needles away from him."

"I am fine, Grandmother," I say, letting out a small laugh as I set the knitting needles down in the basket anyway. My lower back is aching from sitting in one position, a dull, familiar pressure lingering deep in my hips.

I place my hands against the wooden table and slowly push myself up to stand.

Bael is on his feet before my knees even lock. His tablet is set aside on the chair, his large hand coming around my waist to take my weight. "Where are you going?"

"Just stretching," I say softly, giving his wrist a small squeeze. "My legs are going stiff."

I take two slow steps toward the center table, watching Ling Yue attempt to press a ball of dough into a carved wooden rose mold. The flour on his nose makes him look like a kid, and the peaceful, easy chatter of the courtyard fills the morning air.

"Ling Yue, if you press it that hard, the filling is going to—"

The sentence dies in my throat.

It doesn’t start as an ache. It hits like a sudden, violent tearing deep in the base of my spine, sharp enough to sever the breath right out of my lungs.

My knees buckle instantly.

"Runze!" Bael’s voice roars right beside my ear as his arms catch me before my body can touch the stone floor.

A sharp, wet splash hits the flags beneath my feet. Warm fluid pours down the inside of my thighs, soaking through my trousers in a sudden, unstoppable rush.

"Bael—" I gasp, my fingers clawing helplessly into the fabric of his shirt as a second, crushing contraction clamps down over my abdomen like an iron vise. The pain is blinding, white-hot, ripping a raw, breathless scream straight out of my chest. "Ah—!"

The entire garden shatters into total chaos.

Grandmother’s teacup crashes onto the stone floor, shattering into pieces as she springs up, her book tumbling into the grass. "Runze! His water broke!"

"Mrs. Wen! Get the car!" Ling Yue yells, dropping the wooden mold as flour covers the table, his face draining of all color. "Call Dr. Xi right now!"

"Young Master!" Xiao Mei screams, knocking her chair over as she scrambles backward in shock.

"Runze, look at me!" Bael’s voice is hard, tight, vibrating with a fierce, frantic edge I have never heard in his life. He scoops me up into his arms, pulling my upper body tightly against his chest as another violent wave of contractions forces my head back against his shoulder. "Breathe. Look at me, Runze!"

"It hurts—Bael, it hurts—!" I sob into his neck, my whole body trembling violently as the pressure in my pelvis surges through my entire body.

"I have him! Get the doors open!" Bael shouts over his shoulder, his stride long and furious as he carries me straight through the courtyard toward the front gates. "Bring the car around now!"

Shouts, running footsteps, and the sharp ring of phone calls echo wildly through the estate as the gates throw open into the bright morning light.