CHAPTER 79 — A Home That Didn't Feel Like a Cage
The afternoon sun hung lazily over the Mu estate, bathing the garden in warm, honey-gold light. Flowers nodded gently in the breeze, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and freshly cut grass.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Shi Yunxi stood by the glass doors with her hands lightly resting on the frame, watching as the triplets sprawled across the grass around Mu Lingchen, their father now the center of three very different kinds of chaos.
Shi Yichen had claimed Lingchen's right arm and was explaining — with grave seriousness — why superheroes deserved a tax-free lifestyle.
Shi Qing'er lay across his stomach, kicking her feet in the air and braiding daisies into his tie.
Mu Rui sat perched on his left side, quietly drawing in a sketchbook, occasionally glancing up to study Lingchen's face like he was memorizing it.
And Lingchen…
Was lying there looking like a wealthy man who had absolutely surrendered to his tiny captors.
Yunxi couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips.
She had never imagined this scene.
Not with him.
Not with anyone.
A strong breeze drifted by, lifting the edge of her dress. When she stepped outside, the triplets immediately spotted her.
"Mommy!" Qing'er squealed.
"Moooom!" Yichen shouted louder.
Mu Rui simply looked up, eyes warming, a quiet but unmistakable happiness in them.
Yunxi approached, trying to look neutral, but Lingchen caught the fondness in her eyes and smirked slightly.
"I see you've been enjoying watching me suffer."
She lifted a brow. "Are you suffering?"
"Yes." He pointed accusingly at his tie. "Your daughter is strangling me with floral creativity."
Qing'er stuck out her tongue. "It's beautiful! Daddy should thank me!"
Lingchen gave her a look of dramatic helplessness. "I thanked you twice."
"No, you sighed," she corrected. "That's not the same."
Yunxi sat down on the grass, smoothing her dress beneath her, and suddenly everything felt… strange.
Not dangerous.
Not fragile.
Just strange in a warm, frightening way — like something she had never allowed herself to imagine might actually be possible.
A family.
Her family.
She caught Lingchen staring at her and quickly looked away.
"You're staring," she murmured.
"I'm allowed," he answered calmly.
Her breath hitched.
"Why?"
"Because you're here."
She didn't respond — because the weight of that sentence pressed too deeply into her chest.
The children's laughter softened the tension around them.
Mu Rui tapped his father's sleeve. "Daddy… can I draw you and Mommy together?"
Lingchen paused.
Yunxi froze.
Qing'er gasped. "Yes! Yes! Draw them holding hands!"
"Hands are not necessary," Yunxi said quickly.
"Yes they are," Yichen argued. "You always hold hands with people you like."
"I do not—"
"Mommy, you hold my hand every day," Qing'er reminded her proudly.
"That's different—"
"Is it?" Lingchen said quietly.
Her eyes snapped to him.
He wasn't teasing.
He wasn't pushing her.
His voice was soft — almost careful.
Before she could answer, Yichen dropped onto her lap, legs dangling everywhere.
"Mommy, Daddy's house is so big! Can we stay tonight too?"
The question sliced right into her chest — because she had been waiting for it.
Dreading it.
Lingchen's hand stilled on the grass.
He didn't look at her.
He didn't say anything.
He just waited.
She swallowed.
"I don't know if—"
"Please?" Qing'er begged. "Daddy has a swimming pool! And a cinema room!"
"And a library," Rui whispered shyly.
"And a big kitchen!" Yichen added. "Daddy said there's cake!"
Yunxi blinked.
"A cake?"
Lingchen cleared his throat. "I may have ordered some things to be prepared in case they wanted dessert."
"Daddy, it's not some things," Yichen corrected. "It's like eight cakes."
"Eight?!" Yunxi choked. "Why eight?!"
Lingchen looked mildly defensive. "I didn't know which flavors they preferred."
The children exchanged devious glances.
"We prefer all!" they chimed.
Yunxi stared at him.
"You're spoiling them."
"Is that wrong?"
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
And for the first time, she realized…
No.
It wasn't wrong.
Not when they had grown up with so little.
Not when love had been something they had to ration, protect, and guard.
Not when they finally had someone who wanted to give it freely.
Yunxi exhaled slowly.
"I suppose… one night won't hurt."
"YEAAAH!!" the triplets screamed.
Yichen toppled onto the grass.
Qing'er did a victory dance.
Rui's eyes shined quietly, relief flooding his expression.
Lingchen sat up so fast the daisies fell from his tie.
"You'll stay?" he asked, voice low and disbelieving.
"For the night."
He nodded, but she saw it — the flash of warmth, the silent thank you.
Not forced.
Not demanding.
Just grateful.
Later in the evening, after showers, snacks, and the triplets completely exhausting every corner of the house, Yunxi found herself walking down one of the long hallways, lights warm and soft against the polished floor.
The Mu estate no longer felt intimidating.
It felt… alive.
Because her children were here.
Because Lingchen was here.
Because the silence that once haunted the halls was now replaced by giggles, footsteps, and tiny arguments about toothbrush colors.
She found Lingchen standing outside the triplets' room, leaning lightly against the doorframe.
"They're finally asleep," he murmured.
"Already?" she asked.
He smiled faintly. "They were trying to fight it, but Rui fell asleep mid-sentence, Yichen passed out hugging a toy dinosaur, and Qing'er threatened me with hair clips before she collapsed."
Yunxi laughed softly.
And Lingchen watched her with that quiet intensity again.
"I like seeing you here," he said.
She stiffened.
He didn't move closer.
Didn't touch her.
Didn't trap her.
He simply stood there, arms relaxed at his sides.
"Not because I want something from you," he continued. "But because… this feels right."
Her heart fluttered painfully.
"I'm still trying to trust this," she whispered.
"I know." His voice softened. "And I'm not asking you to rush. I'm asking you to stay. At your pace. In your way."
Something warm curled inside her.
Something she had buried for years.
"Just… don't disappear again, Yunxi."
She looked up.
"I'm not planning to."
Silence settled — not tense, not heavy — but full of something unspoken.
Something almost gentle.
Lingchen straightened, stepping aside.
"I'll be here if you need anything."
She nodded.
And for the first time in three long, lonely years…
Her heart didn't feel like it was running anymore.
It felt like it was… coming home.