Chapter 292: Random Mouth Sounds

*Bael’s POV*

Bael rolls a small yellow rubber ring across the polished floor toward Siying, watching as she catches it with both hands and immediately pulls it to her mouth.

He leans forward to her level. “Baba.”

Siying pauses in the middle of chewing and tilts her head, her round eyes settling on his mouth. A small bubble of saliva forms at the corner of her lips. Bael reaches for his handkerchief and wipes her chin before trying again.

“Ba-ba,” he repeats, moving his lips slowly. “Come on, sweetheart. Say it.”

She blinks at him for a moment, then pulls the ring out of her mouth, holds it up as if she has something important to show him, lets out a meaningless sound, and shoves it back between her gums.

Bael sits back against the edge of the sofa, adjusting his sleeves while he considers where his teaching method went wrong.

From the doorway, Runze watches him with a stack of revised drawing pages in his hands. The amusement on his face grows as he crosses the room and leans against the back of the sofa.

“You have been at that since eight this morning,” Runze says. “She is eight months old, Bael. You cannot expect her to learn a word just because you keep repeating it.”

“She pulled herself up to stand yesterday,” Bael reminds him. “She moved faster than we expected, so there is no reason she cannot learn a simple word today.”

“Standing and speaking are two very different things.” Runze squeezes his shoulder. “She will speak when she is ready.”

“She is ready.” Bael turns back to Siying and taps his chest. “Papa. Try that one.”

Siying ignores him completely. She drops the yellow ring and reaches for a blue plastic block, then begins banging it against the floor, producing a series of loud thuds that make Runze laugh.

“I will leave you to your lesson,” Runze says, shaking his head.

Before Bael can respond, a soft rustle of silk comes from the corridor.

Grandmother walks into the room wearing a wine-colored silk robe, her silver hair neatly pinned with a jade hairpin. A small silver bell hangs from a cord in her hand.

Siying stops banging her block the moment she notices her. The toy slips from her fingers and her face brightens. She plants both hands on the mat and stretches her arms toward Grandmother, opening and closing her fingers urgently.

“Ma!” she cries.

Grandmother stops mid-step.

“Gah-ma!” Siying adds, reaching harder.

Runze freezes with a sheaf of paper held mid-air, his mouth slightly open before a quiet snort escapes him. Bael remains frozen on the floor, jaw tightening as he takes in the sight. Near the kitchen archway, Mrs. Wen stops with her hands lifted to her chest, while two young maids pause near the entrance, eyes wide.

“Gah-ma!” Siying repeats, louder this time, arms waving frantically.

Grandmother glances at Bael before returning her attention to the baby. There is something almost amused in her expression, although she is far too composed to let it develop into a proper smile.

Bael straightens his back and places both hands on his knees. He is perfectly capable of accepting that his daughter has made a new sound. It is hardly a competition, regardless of the fact that he has spent nearly four hours trying to teach her one particular word.

“She called for Grandmother,” Mrs. Wen whispers from near the kitchen, failing to hide her smile. “It seems Master Bael has lost this round.”

Bael turns his head toward her, but before he can respond, Grandmother steps forward and lowers herself onto the padded mat. She holds the silver bell out in front of Siying and gives it a gentle shake. Siying barely glances at it before reaching for Grandmother’s robe instead, and when the older woman opens her arms, the little girl leans forward eagerly, shifting onto her knees.

Grandmother catches her easily and settles her on her lap.

“You have a lot to say today,” Grandmother remarks.

Siying responds with a string of happy babbling, turning the bell clumsily between her fingers while Grandmother watches her with an expression that would surprise anyone who knew her only from formal family gatherings.

Runze lowers himself beside Bael and presses his shoulder against his, clearly struggling to keep his amusement under control.

“You have been trying to teach her ‘Baba’ all morning,” Runze whispers. “And she has decided to greet Grandmother instead.”

“I am aware,” Bael replies. “It was a coincidence. She was making random mouth sounds.”

Runze’s lips twitch, but he makes a determined effort to behave himself.

As if she has heard his voice, Siying turns her head from Grandmother’s lap and looks in his direction. For one hopeful moment, Bael thinks she might finally repeat the word he has been teaching her. Instead, she blows a loud, sputtering raspberry through her lips before turning back to Grandmother.

“Ma,” she says, patting Grandmother’s knee.

Runze presses his face against Bael’s shoulder and his laughter becomes impossible to contain. Bael pinches his side firmly, hoping to put an end to it before it draws more attention.

Grandmother looks across the mat at Bael, her lips curving with quiet satisfaction. “Some things cannot be forced with practice, Bael. Babies have their own timing.”

Bael straightens his cuffs. “I am with Siying every day I am home. Apart from Runze, she spends more time with me than she does with anyone else.”

“Exactly.” Grandmother adjusts Siying on her lap. “She knows you well enough to take you for granted. I am still a novelty.”

Runze makes another muffled sound against Bael’s shoulder, and Bael tightens his fingers around his side until he finally pulls away.

“That hurt,” Runze complains, rubbing the spot through his shirt.

“Then perhaps you should stop laughing at me.”

“I would, but you make it very difficult.”

Bael gives him a look. Runze only smiles before returning to his papers.

Grandmother makes no move to return to her rooms. When Mrs. Wen brings over her tea, Siying has settled comfortably against her. Grandmother takes a small carved comb from the tray and gently runs it through Siying’s sparse hair while humming an old lullaby, the melody soft enough to blend with the quiet sounds of the estate.

Every so often Siying makes a babbling sound of her own, and Grandmother responds by continuing the tune without interrupting her movements.

Bael finds himself watching longer than he should.

Runze comes up behind the sofa and leans over the back, resting his chin near Bael’s head while his thumbs work slow circles into his shoulders.

“You have been staring at the same page for a while now,” Runze observes.

“The figures require careful review,” Bael tells him.

“Then you should look at them instead of glaring at Grandmother.”

“I am not glaring. I am observing.”

Runze’s fingers continue their slow movements. “She is Siying’s great-grandmother,” he says quietly. “No one in this estate has ever seen her sit on the floor with anyone the way she does with Siying.”

Bael says nothing because Runze is right.

He looks toward them again, and this time Siying notices him watching. Her attention leaves the comb, and her bright eyes settle on his face across the room.

She pauses. Then she lifts both arms in his direction.

“Baba,” she says.

Runze’s hands stop on his shoulders. He leans farther over the sofa, staring at Siying before looking down at Bael with wide eyes. “Did you hear that? Bael, she just said Baba!”

Bael has no answer ready. He can only stare at his daughter, who continues reaching toward him as if she cannot understand why he has not already crossed the room.

He sets the laptop aside and moves across the mat on his knees. Grandmother shifts Siying toward him, and he lifts her into his arms. She comes willingly, grabbing the front of his shirt as soon as he draws her close. Her cheek settles into the curve of his neck, and he feels her warm breath against his skin while her fingers curl into the fabric near his collar.

“Baba,” she repeats.

This time the word comes directly against his neck, and Bael cannot stop the smile that spreads across his face. He tightens his arms around her, holding her close.

Grandmother watches them from the mat, her hands resting on her knees. The quiet curve of her lips tells Bael that she has noticed his reaction.

Runze, however, is not prepared to let the moment pass. He moves closer, leaning around Bael’s shoulder until his face is almost level with Siying’s.

“Wait, what about me?” he asks, looking directly at their daughter. “Siying, look at me. Say Papa. Or Da-da, if that’s easier. Come on, just try it once.”

Siying studies his face for a moment, her eyes moving between his eyes and his mouth. Then she blows a raspberry straight at him before burying her head against Bael’s neck again.

Runze stares at her in disbelief before letting out a breathless sigh and resting his forehead against Bael’s shoulder.

“She blew drool on me,” he mutters, sounding genuinely betrayed.

Bael laughs, adjusting Siying in his arms. Her little heart beats steadily against his chest, and the frustration from earlier has disappeared so completely he can hardly remember why he was so determined in the first place.

At least she has said the word he wanted to hear. She may not fully understand what it means yet. But she reached for him when she said it, and that is enough.

Bael glances at Runze, who is still looking at their daughter as though he expects her to reconsider her decision at any moment.

“She said it to me first,” Bael remarks, keeping his tone perfectly calm.

Runze lifts his head. “You spent the entire morning trying to make her say it, and now you are going to act as though you won some great victory?”

“I did win.”

“Bael!”

Bael laughs again, drawing Siying closer as she settles against his chest, apparently satisfied with the day’s achievements. Across from them, Grandmother finally rises, bracing one hand against the edge of the table before smoothing the folds of her skirt.

“Do not get too comfortable, either of you,” she says as she prepares to leave. “By next year, she will be arguing with both of you, and then you will wish she had stayed quiet.”

With that, she turns toward the hallway leading to her private wing, her slippers tapping softly against the floor as she walks away.

Runze watches her go before turning back to Siying, who has already begun playing with the buttons on Bael’s shirt. He reaches out to stroke her hair, and Bael shifts slightly so that she can hold one of Runze’s fingers while remaining comfortably in his arms.

Bael has spent the entire morning waiting to hear one particular word, but now that he has heard it, he finds that holding her close is more than enough.