CHAPTER 77 — The House That Should Have Been Theirs
The Mu family estate looked nothing like Yunxi remembered.
She had only visited once, years ago, long before everything fell apart. Back then, the property had felt cold—too grand, too quiet, too intimidating. A place built for power, not for warmth.
But today…
As Mu Lingchen's car rolled past the gates, the lights inside the mansion were on. Soft ones. Warm ones. Not bright and sterile like before.
The fountain she remembered as an icy, silent decoration now glowed under golden lamps, with water flowing gently. The garden—once rigid and disciplined—was blooming with late-season flowers. The stone pathway had been washed clean.
The entire house felt… lived in.
Prepared.
Waiting.
Almost as if the home itself had been bracing for the moment the family it lost finally returned.
"Wow…" Shi Qing'er whispered, pressing her face against the car window. "It's so big!"
Shi Yichen nodded rapidly. "Can we get lost in it? I wanna get lost!"
Mu Rui simply stared, absorbing every detail quietly. His little fingers curled around Yunxi's sleeve, grounding himself.
Yunxi's throat tightened a little.
Everything was too much.
Too soft.
Too warm.
Too deliberate.
Like the house had been transformed into something a family could grow in.
She glanced at Lingchen beside her.
He kept his eyes on the rearview mirror—on the children—silent, but his hand trembled slightly against the steering wheel.
When he caught her looking, he quickly composed himself.
"Welcome home," he said gently.
Her chest tightened.
She wasn't sure she was ready to hear that yet.
When the doors of the mansion opened, the first person they saw was Butler Zhao. The elder man bowed so deeply Yunxi startled.
"Miss Shi…" he said, voice shaking. "Welcome home. And the little young masters and young miss… Oh heavens…" His eyes glistened. "You all look just like—just like—"
Shi Yichen blinked up at him.
Shi Qing'er tilted her head adorably.
Mu Rui hid slightly behind Yunxi's leg.
Butler Zhao sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
"You three look just like the Master when he was small," he said, laughing through tears. "He was also round-faced and troublesome."
"Grandpa Zhao," Lingchen muttered sharply. "Enough."
Too late—the triplets were already staring at Lingchen with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"Daddy was round-faced?" Shi Yichen gasped.
"Troublesome?" Shi Qing'er added.
Mu Rui whispered, "Daddy was cute?"
Lingchen choked.
Yunxi covered her mouth to hide her laughter.
The housekeeper's laughter echoed through the hall.
"Yes, yes, he was," Butler Zhao said proudly. "And he cried every time he lost his toy sword."
"Grandpa Zhao!" Lingchen coughed hard, face turning slightly red. "That's enough."
The triplets were grinning ear to ear.
For the first time since they arrived, the tension in Yunxi's shoulders eased.
This place wasn't suffocating.
Not anymore.
Inside, the mansion was breathtaking — but what struck Yunxi wasn't the size or luxury.
It was the details.
Children's safety gates installed at staircases.
Soft corner bumpers on marble edges.
Cabinets with locks.
A small shelf in the living room with storybooks — triplets' books, she realized — three copies of each.
Three.
Not one.
Not two.
Three.
Lingchen spoke quietly beside her.
"I… had the house prepared," he said, avoiding her eyes. "Just in case. Before I asked you to come."
She didn't know what to say.
Couldn't speak.
Her heart wavered dangerously.
"And this," Butler Zhao added cheerfully, "is the children's room."
He opened a door near the west wing.
Yunxi inhaled sharply.
Three small beds, side by side.
Three little desks.
Three wardrobes.
Three sets of matching pajamas folded neatly on the beds.
A soft pastel theme — stars for Mu Rui, clouds for Yichen, flowers for Qing'er.
Everything was gentle.
Everything was safe.
Everything was balanced between their personalities.
"You prepared all this?" Yunxi asked quietly.
Lingchen nodded once.
"I didn't know when they'd come. Or if they ever would." He swallowed. "But I wanted to be ready."
Shi Qing'er was already running to her bed.
Shi Yichen explored the toys.
Mu Rui stood frozen for a long moment, staring at the space prepared for him — a place he never had before.
Then he whispered, barely audible, "…mine?"
Lingchen knelt.
"Yes," he said softly. "It's yours."
Mu Rui launched into his arms without warning.
And that broke Yunxi all over again.
Dinner was a disaster.
A warm, chaotic disaster.
Shi Yichen refused to sit normally and kept swinging his legs.
Shi Qing'er spilled juice twice.
Mu Rui insisted on feeding Lingchen a piece of chicken — with a spoon.
Lingchen looked like a man trying to maintain dignity while drowning in fatherhood.
Yunxi watched all of it with helpless, bubbling laughter.
At one point, Lingchen leaned toward her and lowered his voice.
"This is… very different from eating alone."
He sounded somewhere between overwhelmed and strangely content.
"It's called having children," Yunxi replied dryly.
He met her eyes.
Held them.
And for a moment… something unspoken passed between them.
Something fragile.
Something warming.
Something like the beginning of healing.
After dinner, the triplets fell asleep in their new beds—Shi Yichen on his stomach, Qing'er hugging her plush bunny, Mu Rui curled tightly like a kitten.
Lingchen pulled a blanket over each of them gently.
Yunxi stood at the door, watching silently.
He didn't know she could see him.
But she saw everything.
The careful way he adjusted Mu Rui's pillow.
The soft smile when he stroked Shi Qing'er's bangs.
The way he lingered beside Shi Yichen's bed, memorizing his son's features with reverence.
Yunxi's lips trembled.
This wasn't a performance.
This was a man loving his children.
Too late.
Too painfully late.
But real.
When he finally stepped out and gently closed the door, he found her standing in the hallway.
Neither spoke.
For several seconds, they simply stared at each other.
Then Lingchen said softly—
"Thank you… for trusting me with them."
The sincerity in his voice nearly undid her.
"Don't make me regret it," she whispered.
He shook his head immediately.
"I won't. Ever again."
A promise.
Quiet.
But heavy.
She nodded once and walked past him toward the guest room.
Her heart beat violently the entire way.
Because she knew—
Their family had taken its first real step.
And the next steps would be even harder.
Even deeper.
Even more dangerous.
But tonight?
Tonight, they were under the same roof.
And that alone made the world feel different.
Alive.
Healed.
Beginning again.